


Luna, Queen of Azkaban

by TeachUsSomethingPlease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Genius Luna, Good Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter in Azkaban, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Seriously the Ministry of Magic are Morons, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26099563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeachUsSomethingPlease/pseuds/TeachUsSomethingPlease
Summary: Fudge apparently wanted scapegoats for the DoM incident, and he picked the Ministry 6. Now they're stuck in Azkaban instead of the Death Eaters. The dementors are gone, but things seem bleak... until Luna reveals she's smuggled in a wand. And she seems to be slowly taking control of the island for the DA. Oops. Features Idiot!Fudge, Genius!Luna, Good!Dumbledore, and one very confused Harry.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 81
Kudos: 199





	1. You keep WHAT in your ear?!

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I did not write the story. Or maybe it's not a story and I'm Luna? Who knows...

Cornelius Fudge really was thick as two short planks, or at least, that's what Harry Potter was thinking as he found himself landing heavily on a stone floor. Tonks mouthed a vague apology to him has he rolled over, rubbing his elbow as Dawlish sneered at him, locking the door and striding off. Tonks lingered for a moment, looking miserable, then scuttled after Dawlish.

Sitting up, Harry checked his elbow. It was bruised and not broken, to his relief; he was sick of breaking, cutting, or losing bits of himself. He sighed, rubbing first the red circles around his wrists where he'd been bound, then the serial number that was still smarting. First his forehead, then his hand, now his neck. They just had to keep marking him, painfully but more importantly obviously, such that he'd never be able to walk without being recognized.

After the whole fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, Lord Voldemort had managed to break out the majority of the Death Eaters within a day. Desperate not to look bad, Fudge had decided that Harry could go back to his old job as the Ministry's punching bag, and dumped him in the now Death-Eater-less Azkaban prison, no doubt alongside some urging from his dear Undersecretary. Harry hadn't thought they'd repeat imprisoning someone without a trial, but there he was.

_And they'd locked up his friends with him!_

Harry sat in his cell fuming. It had taken almost the whole year to convince people he wasn't crazy and now the ministry was probably telling everyone he was a Dark Lord. And in all honesty, he was contemplating becoming one for kicks at this point. It would make a nice change from 'Harry saves Wizarding Britain and everyone is an ungrateful berk'. Honestly, maybe he should pick up some dark magic, not as bad as Voldemort, of course, but enough to kick the Death Scoffers to hell and back. It wasn't like his situation could get much worse – locked up with a dead godfather and a prophecy hanging over his head. Well, it could. He could be dead. But on the bright side, he'd see his family again… Moony might be a bit cut up, though. Where was Moony, anyway? The Order had shown up, what was going on there? What about Tonks and Kingsley, would they be in trouble over the following days? Oh, if they tried anything, Harry would make them pay, even if he had to come back as a ghost and haunt the Ministry for the rest of his days…

He didn't know how long exactly he was stewing in his cell. At some stage, he might have dropped off to sleep, sitting on the flat mattress with his back against the cold stone wall. They'd brought the students in at night, so Harry hadn't gotten much sleep.

What he did know was at some point after dawn but before midday, a rock went flying through a tiny hole in the wall and hit the ground at his feet. Harry looked at it, then the hole in the wall, then went to put his eye against the hole. This turned out to be a mistake, as his glasses were on the floor and a pebble hit him directly in the eye.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, hello, Harry."

Harry paused, rubbing grit out of his eye. "Luna?"

"I was wondering when you were going to start talking," the voice said idly. "But I suppose your mind has been full of wrackspurts."

Yes, that was most definitely Luna. "Why are you throwing rocks through the hole?"

"I wanted to attract your attention, silly," Luna replied. Harry could almost see her eyes widening with expression.

"Yes?" he said. "Why?"

"I'm going to go for a walk," Luna said matter-of-factly.

"A – a walk? Luna, you can't simply go for a walk, we're locked up. Unless you can pick the lock. Come to think of it, Fred and George brought that up in second year… ugh, I feel like an idiot now…"

"Of course I can go for a walk. They didn't leave guards for us, because they don't think we can get out. They think we're incapable – I believe Dawlish thinks I'm crazy. I'm glad. If he didn't, he might have kept us separate."

"Dawlish thinks you're crazy? Really?"

"Oh, yes, it's terribly obvious. But back to our walk, Harry…"

"How?" Harry asked hopelessly. "Unless you've smuggled a wand in here, or you can shrink to the size of a beetle…"

"As a matter of fact," Luna said cheerfully, "I have smuggled a wand in here."

Harry choked. "You – what?"

Luna giggled lightly from the other side of the wall. "Oh, Harry, did you forget you brought a Ravenclaw along?"

"How?" was all Harry could manage to get out.

"I thought Fudge might do something like this," Luna professed dreamily. "The nargles told me, and anyone with a name like that isn't to be trusted."

"I… see?" Harry didn't see.

"I shrunk a wand down and hid it in my ear. It's still a bit small, but the spell should wear off in a couple of minutes. I also shrunk down your cloak and hid it in my other ear. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Harry said weakly.

"That's good," Luna said cheerfully.

"What about the wand the ministry took?" Harry questioned her curiously. "They said it was yours."

"It was. The nargles gave me this one. I think it belongs to one of the Slytherins," Luna said thoughtfully.

"O – oh," Harry said, wondering if the rest of the school was safe around the unfortunate Slytherin who was currently missing their wand.

"Ah! It's grown back. Now, about that walk…"

"I'd love to come," Harry replied softly. "I think everyone would like to come."

"Just around the prison, of course," Luna said amiably. "We'd never get off the island."

"Of course."

Harry sat and waited for a moment before he heard Luna open her cell door. In a moment, she was tapping his with the stolen wand, and it was swinging open. He sat on the mattress and blinked up at her. For someone who'd been thrown into Azkaban without a trial, she looked remarkably normal – or as normal as Luna Lovegood could ever be. "Come on, then, Harry," she chirped, holding out a hand. "Let's go explore our new home."

So Harry took her hand and they walked out of the cell, and if Minister Fudge knew what he'd just set off, he would have fed his conniving Undersecretary to Aragog and then jumped off the Ministry roof. Luna Lovegood and Harry Potter were in no way deranged, much less any of the other four. That didn't mean that they, along with the rest of Dumbledore's Army's power structure, were safe to leave alone to their own devices with two nice big targets to plot against. Not at all.

Smiling, Luna started ticking off the people they had to free for their new group. _Pissed, duel-master Boy-Who-Lived: check. Mad genius girl_ (oh yes, Luna knew she was at least a little mad, after all, the smartest people were) _: check._ Four more friends to go.

* * *

"Harry! Luna!" Neville scrambled over to Harry and Luna. When they had entered, he had been sitting on his mattress, his face buried in his hands, looking like he might cry at any moment. The moment he had noticed their footsteps, his head had jerked up as he tried to appear normal – defiant, even. Now, he was gazing at them, having jumped up, his face sad but betraying hope despite everything. "How – what – you got out – is that a wand? What's going on?"

"Easy, Nev," Harry said, though he wasn't really in the best state of mind either, at that point. "It turns out – uh – Luna smuggled a wand into Azkaban." He nodded to Luna, who was unlocking Neville's door as they spoke. "She shrunk it down and hid it in her ear."

"Oh," was all Neville said.

"I also brought Harry's invisibility cloak in my other ear," Luna said cheerfully as she threw open the door to Neville's cell.

"Oh." Neville blinked, his mind catching up with the rest of him. "Right. Are we escaping?"

"We'd never make it off," Harry said gloomily.

Luna, unfazed, explained, "We're going for a walk around. Then I'm going to pick a cell – mine had a bad view – and make it mine. I think I'll make the walls blue…"

"You – what?" Neville spluttered, as Harry, who hadn't heard about this, blinked, bug-eyed, at the smiling girl.

"Well, we'll be here for a while, according to the nargles," Luna explained, as if it was very simple. "So we should make ourselves at home. There isn't much us in bathing yourself in anger like Harry was, you'd go crazy."

"So… you're painting a cell blue?" Neville asked, puzzled and looking like he might laugh, which was much better than when they'd arrived.

"Baby blue, I think," Luna commented. "Maybe with some silver and bronze, I do so like those colours…"

_Loyal, determined, lieutenant: check._

* * *

Hermione stopped pacing around her cell to stare at the trio standing on the other side of the bars. She examined them for nearly a minute, before pinching herself and yelping.

"I could have just hit you with a Stinging Jinx, you know," Luna commented.

"How did you get out?" Hermione demanded. "Why do you have a wand – oh, I'm sorry! Are you all okay? They didn't treat you too roughly, did they? Mine were okay, at least – none of you are hurt, are you?"

"No," Neville said.

"Not worse than Snape," Harry shrugged.

"Dawlish thought I was crazy," Luna said amiably.

"Right," Hermione said. "We can't escape."

"No, but we may as well explore a bit. Maybe we'll figure something out while we're at it," Harry shrugged.

"And Luna's going to give her cell a makeover, as well as moving into a new one," Neville added.

"That too."

"I suppose that makes sense," Hermione conceded, gears turning in her mind as always. "Are you going to let me out?"

"Of course, Hermione," Luna smiled, tapping the wand on the lock and letting the door slide open.

"Where did you get the wand?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I hid it in my ear," Luna replied.

Hermione scrunched her nose slightly. "That's gross… and I really wish I'd thought of that."

_Walking knowledge depository, Brightest-Witch-of-her-Age: check._

* * *

"You got out," Ron said blankly, from where he was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor.

"Yes," Harry said. "Luna did it."

"Oh. What are we doing?" Ron asked, tilting his head slightly curiously.

"Exploring, mostly. We can't get off the island."

"Are you letting me out?" Ron asked. Harry was starting to worry the stress might have made his friend regress slightly.

"Yes."

"Wait, Loo – Luna's got a wand?" Ron questioned them, looking first blank, then puzzled.

"I have Harry's cloak, too," Luna said, producing it.

At that, Ron's face broke into a grin. "Wicked," he said, and Harry smiled. Ron was fine, just confused, and that was a good thing for his best friend.

_Righteous but nevertheless brave lancer: check._

* * *

"Hi, guys," Ginny said, leaning against the bars on the door.

She seemed perfectly normal, which had Harry worried. "Are you okay?" he asked, frowning.

"Of course I am!" Ginny bristled. "Just because I'm a year younger than you, Harry Potter –"

"Not like that!" Harry said hastily. "I just thought – I was halfway between drowning myself in angst and feeling like I was having a really weird dream, Neville was in a pit of depression, Hermione wanted answers, and Ron was confused. You seem fine."

"It's Luna." Ginny rolled her eyes as if it was obvious, before turning to Luna and raising an eyebrow.

"Shrunk in my ear. The nargles told me to take Harry's cloak, too," Luna smiled serenely.

"Cool!" Ginny exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Now, we are going to figure out a way to get revenge on the morons who put us here, right?"

"I think you've been around Fred and George too much," Ron commented.

Neville chuckled. "No such thing."

"I'm glad the Trace doesn't work in Azkaban," Hermione commented.

"I didn't think of that," Harry said.

Luna just smiled and let Ginny out.

_Slightly vindictive, firecracker best friend: check._

* * *

"You seem happy," Harry said as Luna put the finishing touches on her new, blue, silver, and bronze room. It was still a cell, but a much prettier one.

"I am happy," Luna sighed, sitting down on the lumpy mattress and admiring her handiwork. "They may be sending Wrackspurts after us, and Minister Fudge does have his army of Heliopaths – but I have five friends, a castle all to ourselves, some magic, and lots of time to defeat Lord Voldemort. It isn't perfect," she continued, turning around to Harry, "But it's enough to make me happy."


	2. Better Homes and Rocky Outcrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Luna smuggled a wand into Azkaban in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is in the first chapter. On with the show!

Harry awoke to the sad sight of Hedwig sitting on a dead tree at the edge of the island, unable to progress further due to the wards, the familiar sight of red and gold walls, the irritating sensation of being just a little bit cold, and the odd sound of springs and dull thudding. Puzzled, he got up, opened up the bars of his cell – room – well, it was still a cell, really – and wandered off in the vague direction of the noise. Hermione appeared to have awoken to a similar situation, so away they went together, until they found the source of the strange noises. As he should have expected, it was the source of all the other strange things.

"I've always wanted to bounce on the bed," Luna explained, as she jumped up and down on a lumpy mattress. "But Daddy always said I'd break it."

"Oh," Harry said, as he and Hermione stood in the doorway, watching in slight bemusement.

"You set up your rooms." A statement, not a question, but it would be answered nonetheless.

"Yes, although I couldn't figure out how to make the transfiguration of the bars into doors lasting," Hermione fretted somewhat.

"It will come to you. Maybe the nargles will tell you," Luna said, stepping off the bed onto the stone floor. "Are we going exploring again?"

"I guess. Everyone else is getting a little restless. Except Ron. He's asleep," Harry informed her. "Ginny's got the wand."

"Okay. Let's go exploring," Luna smiled.

The day before, they had only explored the level they were on – judging by the height of the ceiling and the drop below them, they were on the second floor of the prison. There were the cells, of course, but also a southern chamber that seemed to be mostly for guards to gather in, as well as side rooms for storage and some rather medieval bathrooms. Luna had decided to pick out a spot for them at the East of the fortress, so they could wake up to the sun on their face and not be cold. Apparently, spending so much time without her shoes on made Luna a little snippy about when it was and wasn't appropriate to be cold.

There were still, according to Hermione, three levels of prison above them and two below; the ground floor, which had who-knows-what, a second level of dungeons, and the bailey and keep at the centre of the fortifications. Azkaban was the former holdout of a long-extinct lineage; the Ministry had basically dumped them in another version of Hogwarts, with less learning and more random rocks.

Luna retrieved Ginny while Harry and Neville prodded Ron awake and alongside Hermione they wandered off around the prison.

"I wonder where the food comes from," Ron mused. Like the others, he had eaten colourless, tasteless slush for dinner. It didn't please him in the slightest.

"It would likely be somewhere on the ground floor," Hermione offered. "Either that or the very top."

"We still have a lot of castle to explore," Harry said. "I'd say split up, but we only have one wand and we need one with us always, just in case a rogue dementor or Auror shows up."

"Harry's right, but that won't be a problem for too long," Luna smiled.

"I swear, she knows something we bloody don't," Ron grumbled to Neville, who seemed to find the whole thing rather amusing.

"So where are we going?" Ginny asked, as they reached the west staircase. "Up, down, inwards?"

"The ground floor's the general entrance, right?" Neville asked, and Hermione nodded. "Then we'd best secure it first. Besides, since it's not a prison block, and you don't need to pass through a prison block to get to it, the ground floor probably contains a good deal of the stuff needed to keep this place running."

"He's right. It's the first place they enter and the last place they expect us to be," Ron conceded. "No-one escapes through the main entrance. And they probably keep the food there."

"Ground floor it is, then," Ginny grinned.

"Lead the way, Ginny," Luna smiled gently.

* * *

"This stuff is all enchanted," Hermione observed, poking a large pot.

"You know," Ron grumbled, "The food that comes in isn't the best, but it's not grey slop. I think they made it like that on purpose." As far as Ron was concerned, this was sacrilege.

"It saves them bringing it up and using humans – or house elves – I guess," Harry said, leaning over and picking up a box. "What's in here? Potatoes."

"Sprouts, gross," Ginny said, picking up another box and emptying it onto the table.

"I think this is meant to be meat," Neville said, poking a minced-up purple mass, "But it looks like it doesn't come from anything we know of."

"Some magical sheep have purple meat. They're bred for wool, though, not meat," Hermione mused. "Maybe they just buy out the ones that had died of old age. It'd be cheaper."

"Well, we found the food, at least," Harry said. "But we'd probably better keep going. The more ground we cover, the quicker we find more interesting things."'

"Mmhm," Luna hummed in agreement. "I hope there's a library."

"Ooh, do you really think there might be one?" Hermione asked, perking up over a box of carrots.

"This used to be a castle, Hermione. I would be surprised if there wasn't. Besides, the Ministry is too busy executing goblins in strange ways to bother cleaning this castle out," Luna observed.

Hermione grabbed Ron with one hand, Luna with the other, and marched straight back out of the door. Ginny giggled, before picking up a carrot and wandering off after them. "Come on, boys," she called out over her shoulder.

Neville looked at Harry, shrugged, and the two of them followed down the draughty halls. Harry counted two bathrooms, a meeting room and what looked like some holding cells before the corridor ended and they popped out in the bailey. It looked like the wall around the inner ward had been destroyed, but the resulting fused courtyard was otherwise intact. At the centre of the courtyard, the keep stood proudly, towering above them. Miraculously, some spots in the bailey, while not the gardens they might once have been, had grass, at least. Ginny seemed to appreciate this quite a bit, because she plopped herself down on one of the mounds to finish her carrot. "This is nice, for a prison," Neville observed. "It looks like we can get up onto the parapets from here too."

"What's a parapet?" Harry asked.

"You stand on them and shoot spells off. Or drop rocks on people's heads, I suppose," Neville said idly. "Hey, Hermione!" Hermione was trotting off towards the keep, with Ron in tow and Luna keeping up the pace beside them. "Wait for us!"

* * *

The inside of the keep was a lot warmer than the rest of the castle, and Hermione and Luna had their library.

"I can't believe they never cleared this out," Hermione sighed, sitting down in a chair with an overlarge pile of books beside her.

"I did tell you about the goblins," Luna said vaguely. "Hmm. _Jynxes and Hexes for the Angry Wyzard._ This might come in useful."

"We only have one wand, you're not thinking about fighting anyone yet, are you?" Harry asked.

"Not yet, but maybe later," Luna chirped cheerfully. "Ooh. _20 Ways to Disembowel Thy Enemies_."

"Urgh," Ron commented. "Sounds like a mess."

"You're right, Ronald," Luna said cheerfully, "It would be. I'll put it away. Oh, what about, _Basic Alchemical Transfiguration_?"

"If you can pull off alchemy," Neville said mildly, "I'll be very impressed. How 'bout a few of us explore the rest of the keep while you guys – well, girls – keep going through the library?"

"Okay," Hermione said vaguely. "Don't get lost." She settled back in her chair, opened up _Curses for Children_ and started reading.

Neville, Harry, Ginny and Ron left the library, and continued through the keep. They passed more bathrooms, what appeared to be a ballroom, and a few cupboards, before Ginny got bored and decided to open one of the cupboards up.

"That could have murdered us, you know," Neville commented.

"Don't be such a pansy, Neville," Ginny scoffed. "Ooh, torches!"

Indeed the cupboard was full of magical torches, among other things. Neatly folded cloaks, for one, and bottles of cleaning potions. Cautiously, Ron reached out and prodded one of the cloaks with his finger. In the absence of any murderous strangulation, he pulled them out and held one up. "I don't know about the cleaning potions, but we'll need these."

Harry pulled out a torch and held it out to Ginny. "Here, light it up, and your wand will be free in case we're attacked."

"Right," Ginny said, touching her wand to the tip of the torch. It promptly burst into green flames.

"What is it with dark wizards and green things?" Ron complained.

Neville wandered on forwards. "This room is empty," he noted with a frown.

The other three teenagers walked over. Harry sat the torch in a bracket on the wall; the room was too bright to need it. Neville was right; it was conspicuously empty.

"I'm going to go poke around," Ginny declared, marching forward into the room. "It feels too empty. Like there's something meant to be here."

Harry frowned. She was right, and by the looks of the others, they had noticed it too. "Maybe there's something hidden?" Ron proposed. "Like a passage or something. Or the Ministry cleaned it out."

"The Ministry didn't remove _Wandless Magic for Dark Wizards_ , I doubt they've even been in here," Harry snorted.

Neville ran his hand along the walls, all the way around the room. "There's nothing – wait." He backtracked and felt the wall again. "Scratch that, there's something here. Like – a socket or something."

Harry walked over and felt the area. "You're right, Nev. It's invisible, but – I wonder what goes in?"

"A wardstone?" Ron suggested.

"A wand?" Ginny put in.

"It's too big to be a wand," Neville mused. "I suppose you might fit the hilt of a sword in, but it's not shaped like that…"

"Maybe it activates if you're part of the Azkaban bloodline," Ginny murmured. "Of course, that makes this entire room useless."

"It's kind of tapered," Neville commented. "Like, thinner at the bottom of the hole."

Harry blinked, walked out, then came back with the torch and stuck it into the hole. There was a soft humming noise, then a flash as chests materialized around them. "I really did not expect that to work," Harry said, in response to the surprised expressions around him. "Honestly."

Ginny skipped on over to a chest and opened it up. "Black robes?"

"This one's got helmets of some kind," Harry reported as he opened another.

"Uh. Knives?" Ron held out a blade. "It's still sharp. Bloody hell, what is this?"

"Stones of some kind?" Neville blinked, puzzled, as Ginny closed her chest and wandered over to another. "Why would you store rocks?"

Ginny threw open the lid of the chest next to Neville. "Hey, Nev, look at this."

Neville took the set of gloves Ginny handed him. "Dragonhide gloves. They've got slashes across them…"

"This chest is full of spiked iron balls, and according to the label, they're enchanted to attack targets who are hit with a certain spell." Ron looked up. "This is weird."

"It's an armoury," Neville realized, as Harry silently held out a sword half as ornate but just as sharp as the Sword of Gryffindor. "That's why it was hidden. So if anyone stormed the Keep, they couldn't just take what was in here. The robes are duelling robes, the helmets and gloves are for spell protection. The rocks are for sharpening blades against – they're clearly not all goblin made."

"If this is an armoury…" Ron began slowly.

"Let's find out," Ginny agreed. She ran around the room, opening the chests. "Bows and arrows – boots – empty potions bottles – eee!" she squealed as she opened the third-to-last box.

The boys walked over to see inside. "Blimey, they really did leave some behind," Ron breathed.

"They look old, they aren't in great condition, but they'll do," Neville beamed, pulling one out.

"Yes," Harry grinned, turning a slightly chipped beechwood wand over in his hand. "They will."

* * *

Hermione squealed just like Ginny when Neville and Harry stumbled in with far too many wands in their arms. "Where'd you get them?"

"There's an armoury up there, you get in by putting a torch in an invisible socket and it summons a bunch of chests," Ron said, slightly muffled by the mountain of cloaks and robes he was carrying.

"We still can't escape," Ginny added, "But it's going to be much nicer in here with wands and decent clothing."

As Hermione eagerly showed off her haul of books as they sorted through their finds, Luna smiled, picked up a wand, and twirled it around, before sticking it behind her ear. "We found something for you, too," she said, holding out a book. Harry read the title of the chapter she was on. _Mail and Message Wards, How to Cast Them and How to Break Them._

"Mail… wards?" Harry was confused for a moment, until he remembered Hedwig. "I… oh, right. That's… actually excellent!"

Luna beamed brighter than ever. "We're going to have a lot of fun here, Harry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Luna and co. may have found a large quantity of very useful items, but they aren't out of the woods yet. They're still stuck in Azkaban, Moldywart is still at large with his Death Scoffers, Fudge is still sticking his head in the proverbial sand, and it's probably going to rain, because Britain, honestly.
> 
> Adult wizards can get off Azkaban, but remember, they can apparate, complete an amimagus transformation, have brooms, etc. Besides, if they escaped, Luna would not be able to ascend to her rightful place as Queen of Azkaban and possible Dark-Grey-But-Not-Dark-Dark-Lady.


	3. Scotland Fried Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Luna smuggled a wand into Azkaban in her ear.  
> Children promptly ran amok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is in the first chapter. Allons-y!

_Dear Grandpa Brian_

_How is your Scotland Fried Phoenix branch going? Have you retrieved any phoenixes? Is the secret recipe safe? Are you safe and well?_

_We are doing just fine, Grandpa. I do believe that despite the Ministry's army of Heliopaths, things are going splendidly. My room is most charming and my bed is comfy enough for me to take a catnap whenever I'd like._

_I'm right next to Harry, which is nice. He's a lovely person. A bit depressed though, and serious. It makes me sad, but he's getting better. I guess Hermione is wanting to read something, but there are no novels in Azkaban, sadly. I would like to read a book too._

_Ronald would be upset at the bad food, I think. Things could be worse. The gruel is grey and not purple. If it was purple, I would be worried that they were using Crumple-Horned Snorcacks for food, but I don't think that's it. Neville is very quiet. That worries me. He's very brave, you know._

_I wonder if I'm in the paper? A Heliopath attack would warrant news, I suppose, though if we'd bought it, I'd keep this under wraps. I'd even put the information under disillusionment charms. I think I'd make a good Auror, don't you think? I hope the Aurors are doing well, but Fudge is very busy cooking goblins, I hear._

_Every so often, I hear someone shouting about the Minister having a stick up his arse. It's frightfully rude, and it sounds rather uncomfortable. Surely there's somewhere more comfortable to store a stick? I hope that's not a wand. A wand wouldn't like being there any more than it likes being dumped in the mud. Even using it to dig out earwax would be a better fate. Poor Ollivander, he would be upset at people abusing his creations. I wonder if he'll teach me wandlore when they let me out?_

_If you find a patch of land without Wrackspurts, please let me know. I look forward to it. Phoenixes don't like Wrackspurts very much._

_Love,_   
_Luna_

"Will they understand any of this?" Hermione asked sceptically, as she read over Luna's shoulder.

"Of course," Luna smiled dreamily. "Is that everything?"

"I suppose," Harry said. "Do you really think it'll be intercepted?"

"That's why we wrote it with mud and not ink," Hermione shrugged helplessly. "What else can we do?"

"Right. _Levimurus epistulae temporarius_ ," Harry intoned.

Hermione and Luna repeated the spell, and in a flash, Hedwig cannonballed into the castle straight into Harry's face. The spell, meant to break mail wards, was very draining and caused a lot of magic backlash, hence Harry needed help. The burst of power, however, appeared to alert Hedwig, and soon she was recovered from crashing and was hopping about on his shoulder as if she were a pirate's parrot.

"Hey, girl," Harry smiled, stroking Hedwig's feathers as she fussed over him like an overbearing mother. Like Mrs Weasley, really. "I'm afraid there isn't much bacon here."

"Hoot," Hedwig said stoically.

"Yeah, Hed. I know," Harry sighed.

"Hoot?" Hedwig cocked her head.

"Mm. We have a letter here, could you deliver it to the Order?" Harry asked gently.

"Hoot," Hedwig said, looking as if the mere suggestion she might not was a grave insult.

"Right. Here, girl." Harry picked up the letter and Hedwig held out a leg as the teenagers tied it on. Then, after making a final attempt at rearranging his head, she nipped his finger and flew out of the castle.

"I hope the Ministry doesn't hurt her," Hermione said worriedly.

"They won't," Luna assured her. "They need us alive, you see."

Hermione didn't look reassured.

* * *

"Scotland Fried Phoenix? Heliopaths? Wrackspurts? I told you she was insane, Cornelius," Dolores Umbridge cackled. "Ooh, this is simply ridiculous. I'm so glad you took my advice and locked those brats up."

"Yes, you're right, Dolores," Fudge agreed. "If only we could stop this owl from attacking us."

"HOOT!" Hedwig shrilled, dive-bombing Percy Weasley for the fifteenth time.

"And if we could figure out why the memos are copying her."

"HOOT!" Hedwig hooted crossly, flying so low down the hallway she buzzed three secretaries and knocked the hat off Anaxagoras Malfoy's head. To add insult to injury, Hedwig proceeded to knock over an ink pot and start pecking everyone in sight, with the help for twenty-seven interdepartmental memos.

"I do not have a stick up my arse!" Fudge shouted, his bowler hat falling off.

"Of course not, Cornelius," Umbridge simpered. "You are – DAMN OWL!"

Hedwig had just caused the twenty-seven memos to tie a large knot in one of the scribes' hair.

"Perhaps she'll go away if we give back the letter," squeaked one intern rather hopefully.

"Shut up, Jenkins."

"It's Jessop," the intern mumbled sadly.

"Do you think we could send the letter, though?" Fudge asked. "The bird – she's awfully vicious. And no-one can hit her."

"Hoot," Hedwig agreed smugly, leaving inky footprints all over Percy's face and knocking his horn-rimmed glasses askew.

"I suppose we can send the brat's letter if we must, seeing as it's full of garbage and lies," Umbridge sniffed. "After all, we can't let people think we're killing children, no matter how much good it might do."

"Why, yes, of course, Dolores," Fudge agreed. "Bird! Take your mail!"

"HOOT!" Hedwig screeched, swooping down, stealing the letter, and smashing out of a window.

"I thought we were underground?" Jessop the intern mumbled. In answer, Hedwig swooped straight back in the window, covered in dirt, and proceeded to fly back to the Ministry lift, knocking over forty-two piles of parchment.

"Bloody chicken," Umbridge growled.

Hedwig trilled to herself, wondering whether her pre-Minister pit-stop to send fifty-three memos down a now-blocked latrine was overkill.

Nah. They had locked up her Harry. And the woman looked like a toad.

* * *

"Curious," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.

"This makes no sense," Kingsley said weakly, putting down the letter.

"Are you sure that's Harry's owl?" Tonks asked Molly.

"Positive," the matron sighed. "He always wrote to us using her."

"Hoot," Hedwig added proudly.

"So, Harry let Luna borrow his owl to write – this?" Kingsley asked, bewildered. "They can clearly send messages, why not send something useful?"

"It could be a secret message. Constant Vigilance!" Mad-Eye barked.

"But there's no concealment spells on it, you said it yourself!" Molly wailed.

"Does Luna have a relative named Brian?" Arthur asked.

"No, her grandfather's name was Saturnus," Dumbledore mused. "I must say, if it's a message, it's very clever."

"Most people say the Lovegoods are insane," Tonks sighed. "And this message was written in mud."

"What's going on?" Lupin, Fred, George, and Emmeline were back from cleaning out a back room.

"We've got a letter," Tonks said.

"Brilliant!" Fred and George chorused.

"It's unintelligible," Kingsley grumbled.

"Aww," Fred and George sighed.

"It's from Luna Lovegood," Arthur sighed, "None of us can make head or tail of it. There aren't any concealments, Alastor checked – but it makes no sense!"

"Poor children," Molly sniffled.

"Let me read it," Emmeline sighed, grabbing it and glancing over it. She scratched her nose, before sighing. "The Lovegoods have been Ravenclaw for longer than anyone can remember. Pandora, too. You're right about it being unintelligible… but there must be something…"

Lupin frowned in thought. "Harry doesn't just lend Hedwig out. He's fond of that bird. And if he could send messages, he'd make sure it was useful. He knows this isn't a game, especially after…"

Dumbledore was still twinkling.

"Scotland Fried Phoenix!" Fred grinned.

"Brilliant!" George said.

"Why would we fry a phoenix?" Tonks asked. "They're immune to fire."

"Xenophilius is crazy," Kingsley sighed. "His daughter might be, too."

"Er…" Fred began.

"She is, a little," George admitted.

"We should know, what with her hanging out with Ginny," Fred said.

"But have you heard of Kentucky Fried Chicken?" George questioned the adults.

They shook their heads and the twins rolled their eyes. "Figures. We snuck out to London once – unless you're mum, then we didn't do anything –"

"BOYS!"

"Shh, Molly, let them finish," Arthur said soothingly, patting her shoulder.

"The muggles have this shop, Kentucky Fried Chicken. They sell exactly that, fried chicken," Fred explained.

"And?" Emmeline asked curiously.

"Well, that's just like Scotland Fried Phoenix, isn't it?" George said.

"I think what Misters Weasley and Weasley are saying," Dumbledore smiled, "Is that Luna has used her status as a slightly crazy person to send us a message. Scotland Fried Phoenix must refer to our Order."

"Sirius did that once," Lupin mumbled. "He thought sending us a letter that was pure insanity was safer than one in plain English. His mother thought he'd cracked – not that she liked him much before."

"Even if you know what she's doing, none of this makes any sense!" Kingsley huffed.

"Oh, give it here," Fred grumbled. "We'll translate it for you."

* * *

"Dear Professor Dumbledore

How is the Order? Have you recruited new members? Is the Order under pressure, or are you safe? Has anyone been attacked?

We are doing fine. Despite the – whatever heliopaths are – Azkaban is fine. The cell is alright – the mattress is transfigured… how did she transfigure the mattress?

I'm right next to Harry. He's sad about Sirius, but getting better. Hermione is researching, Luna would like to as well. The food is awful. The meat used in the food is purple. The whole thing has stressed Neville out, but he's doing better as well.

Has the news of us being locked up made the new yet? I think the Ministry might try to cover it up… wait, did you guys get Harry's stuff?"

"Yes," Lupin said. "We did – George, what are you doing?"

"Be right back!" George yelled.

Five minutes later, he was back, beaming. "The cloak, Luna's got Harry's invisibility cloak!"

"Are the Aurors looking for You-Know-Who, or is Fudge stalling?

The Minister has a stick up his arse –"

"FRED!"

"She wrote it, look! It must be uncomfortable… oh, Merlin, she hasn't."

"But she has, Georgie."

"We are not worthy."

"Quite, quite. It's magnificent."

"The prank of pranks."

"Precisely."

"What are you talking about?" Tonks shrieked, frustrated.

"Somehow, Luna smuggled in a wand. Something about hiding it in her ear."

"HA!" Mad-Eye laughed. "Snuck a wand past the Ministry!"

"And me," Tonks sighed.

"If you recruit anyone new, tell us. Love, Luna." George put the page down. Dumbledore was still twinkling like mad. "Are we going to write back?"

* * *

"You never told us you were a Marauder!" Fred whined.

"We had you for a teacher for a whole year and never worked it out. We're useless, Freddie," George griped.

"What's a Marauder?" Tonks asked curiously.

Lupin was busy being torn between nostalgia, sadness, embarrassment, and general teacher-ness. "Help me write this letter, won't you? It needs to be impossible to know who it came from. If it can be traced, we could be sent to Azkaban for consorting with prisoners, and while I'm sure we'd all love to see our six convicts, we're more useful out here."

* * *

_Dear Luna_

_The shop is going very well. Unfortunately, we haven't found any phoenixes, but no nargles have stolen the recipe, which is good. We are well, but I fear some Quintapeds may attempt to attack us if we cook too much._

_It's good to know you are comfortable. Give the others my best wishes. Tell them not to be upset and serious, life is more fun happy._

_No, you're not in the paper. The Ministry is pretending it has no Heliopaths. Liars._

_The Minister certainly does have a stick up his arse, and it must be very painful. I'm glad you don't. Poor Ollivander indeed._

_We'll tell you, if we find the land._

_On the bright side, we recently found two twin pixies and I decided to keep them, their venom can make you extremely lucky._

_We'd love to know what you're doing. Write often, won't you? Imprisonment can be a time of the greatest achievement, inspiration, and learning – Luna, if you feel the need to do something new and wonderful, do not resist, it is almost as powerful as the gnomes themselves!_

_We're going phoenix hunting later, but for now, we'll settle for hearing from you._

_Love,_   
_Grandpa Brian, Aunt Lupa, Aunt Iris, and Flip and Grip the pixies_

* * *

"Why am I a girl?!" Lupin spluttered indignantly as Fred and George very nearly fell over laughing.

"You make a wonderful aunt," Tonks smiled.

"You're all immature," Lupin sulked.

"So are you," Tonks said cheerfully. "Tea?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should tell you this is on FF.net, too.


	4. The Dungeons are Unusually Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Luna smuggled a wand into Azkaban in her ear.  
> Children promptly ran amok.  
> Hedwig dive-bombed a toad and a letter broke Kingsley's brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer in the first chapter. Forwards!

The third morning in Azkaban dawned bright and sweet, despite the fact the mattresses would still revert to being lumpy at 4 AM and the wind seemed intent on pervading the entire castle. The reason for this was that this time, instead of being stuck in cells, lost in a new place, or isolated from the world, the Ministry Six felt comfortable in their place. Or, at least, as comfortable as they possibly could be. Not having to eat the slop was a bonus, even if the purple meat, when boiled, tasted strangely as if someone had added squash to it.

"You know," Ron said, watching appreciatively as Luna installed alarm wards around the entrance to the prison, "I thought there would be more evil things in a fortress built by a Dark Wizard."

"Like what?" Hermione asked, from where she stood atop a ladder checking the runes they'd scratched into the keystone of the doorway.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. Evil books. Evil artefacts. Evil magic. I mean, at first, I expected the Ministry to have stripped it all. But since they didn't, you'd think there's be all sorts of things left over."

"There's a lot of things they probably shouldn't have left behind," Ginny agreed. "But none of it seems overtly dark."

"We haven't explored the dungeons yet," Harry reminded them. "If I was a Dark Lord, I'd keep my evil things down there."

"Like Snape," Neville said slightly timidly, "Dumbledore keeps Snape in the dungeons," and Ron laughed.

"There were a lot of dark books in the library," Hermione admitted. "You know, things like _Curses Moste Vile_ and _The Anthology of Poisons_ and _Secrets of Dangerous Beasts_. But we haven't gotten around to reading them, yet."

"What are these wards meant to do, anyway?" Ginny asked. "I mean, obviously they're some kind of safety feature, but it's not like Bill explained anything to us. Or maybe he did. I was more interested in the mummies."

"Voldemort or the Ministry will come at some stage," Luna sighed, casting off the end of the spell with a loop and a flick of her wand. "This won't protect us, for now, but it will tell us if anyone enters, giving us time to hide in our original cells."

"Why would we need to do that?" Ron asked. "It'd completely isolate us."

Hermione answered this time. "If the Ministry shows up, they'll expect us to be languishing in prison. And when they see us in our cells, they won't think to check anywhere else. We want to keep this secret for as long as possible. As for Voldemort, it's entirely possible he has plants in the Ministry. If so, we want to make sure no information gets back to him, and if they try to attack us, they're caught off guard."

"We'll plant wrackspurts in their heads," Luna smiled.

"Won't they notice if they walk through the door and a massive alarm goes off?" Neville asked. "Unless you plan on making it so loud it ruptures their eardrums. That happened to me once, and I never want to do it again."

"Not if we key the ward to our blood," Luna said airily.

Harry threw his hands up into the air. "Great. Three days in this place and Luna's already being corrupted."

Luna giggled. "Perhaps, Harry. Now hold out your hand, please."

* * *

"So, the chime means someone's come through the door, the siren means someone's on the cell level –"

"No, the siren means someone's in the keep. The cell level's a kind of horn, one blast for each level above the ground…"

"Right, and the parapets is a recording of Hedwig, and the dungeons…"

"A whistle, right?"

"Yeah. And the humming like bees, that's the island itself."

"That'll be annoying, whose idea was that?"

"Guys," Neville interrupted, swinging around and nearly taking Ginny's head off with a torch, "I get that the whole alarm system is complicated, but we should probably concentrate in the dark, gloomy place where we all agree we'd keep evil magic."

"Sorry, Neville," chorused Harry and Ron.

Luna held out her own torch to the wall. "Oh, there's a room just that way!" She skipped over to the doorway, holding the light towards a plaque as she wiped the dust from it with her free hand. Like the door, which was clearly heavy and wooden, with metal reinforcements wrapped around the planks, the plaque was coated with almost enough dust to make it fuzzy, but after a few swipes, ornate black letters were clearly visible on rusting steel. "Wardroom. Wonderful!"

Neville walked over and pushed against the door. "Either stuck, or locked."

"Alohomora!" Hermione said, tapping the handle before pushing against the door again. "Stuck, I think. You heard the lock click, right?"

The others nodded; they had indeed. "How do we get in, then? Blast it?" Harry asked.

"Blast a wooden door open? That's a good way to get splinters in your face, or worse," Hermione scolded. "Honestly, Harry, use your head."

"He was going to use it," Ron said, "As a shield."

"Oh, shut up," Harry huffed. "What else are we going to do?"

"Push really, really hard," Ginny suggested with a grin.

"…That's actually not as bad a suggestion as Harry's," Hermione said eventually. Neville laughed.

"We going to do it, then?" Ginny asked.

"We may as well," Harry grumbled.

The six hung their torches in the brackets on the walls and braced their shoulders against the door, but it didn't budge.

"Are you sure it unlocked?" Ron asked after a minute.

"Positive!" Hermione exclaimed.

"You can feel it, a little," Harry said. "Most of the door seems to be moving. It's like part of the edge is nailed down."

"So push harder," Ginny said flatly. "Come on."

Three straight minutes yielded nothing much. Harry's shoulder ached where it pressed up against the wood, as did his legs, which had been straining between the door and the hard stone floor non-stop. Luna had rolled around slightly and was pressing her entire back and shoulders against the dark wood in an effort to use more force.

"Guys," Ron said irritably, "I don't think –"

Rather unexpectedly, the door gave way behind them, and there were a couple of girly shrieks as a sudden gust of wind blew through the opening. It wasn't nearly enough to hold up a human, though, and they fell through the doorway and landed piled up on top of each other. Judging by the copious number of cobwebs, one of the shriekers had been Ron himself.

"Gross," Hermione said. "The locked room had to be the one with spiderwebs everywhere."

"Er, Harry? I think you're crushing my ankle…" Neville blinked into the gloom from the bottom of the pile.

"I've decided I hate doors," Ginny mumbled.

The pile disentangled itself and Harry stood up, glancing around the room. It was made of a different kind of stone to the rest of the castle; while most of the passages were made of an unidentifiable, common grey rock with once-polished floors of the same colour, this room seemed to be built entirely of a deep green-black stone with white flecks. A few shelves along the walls held chisels, empty glass bottles, a few books, and even the odd tarnished silver dagger. Other than that, the room was bare, with a single bracket for a torch and a large block of the black rock in the centre. Harry strayed over to the shelves, and picked up one of the books. _Defensyve Magicks for Thy Castle._ It was old, but must have had a preservation charm on it, because when he flicked it open, it showed no sign of age but for its archaic spelling and lack of true images.

"Oh, bugger," he heard Hermione sigh from the centre, and he put down his book, turning around to see Hermione and Luna looking in dismay at the block in the centre. Putting the book back, he walked over to where they were standing.

"Broken," Luna said mournfully. "We should have known; it must have cracked during the last Lord of Azkaban's life." Indeed, in the centre of the black rock, Harry saw a white wardstone, nestled into a seemingly purpose-built hole, covered in runes, smeared with dust, flakes of metal, and what appeared to be blood. A large, jagged crack ran diagonally across from the left corner to the middle of the right edge.

"At least you can still copy the runes," Ginny said hopefully.

"It'll take a while for me to decode how they mesh together," Hermione sighed. "If it had been intact, we could activate them and be done with it…"

"It's probably for the best," Ron said. "If it was working, it could have done some interesting things when we walked in. And anyway, we don't need it urgently. We should wait a while to see what the Ministry and Voldemort do. Though it wouldn't hurt to have it ready, I suppose…"

"He's right," Neville said. "Let's grab the books, the chisels, and the daggers, and take them with us. We can come down to study the wardstone later. We've still got an entire dungeon to explore."

* * *

The next door, thankfully, was neither locked nor heavy, a simple construction of lightly-coloured, fine-grained wood sitting beneath a polished stone arch. The handle, covered in a greenish rust, squeaked badly when turned, but that was all. They threw the torches up into a pair of brackets on either side of the door and the room lit up nicely, bright though still eerie, exposing a variety of containers, metal stands, stoves, granite shelves, and neat little cupboards.

"I think this is a potions lab," Ginny murmured as she leant over and touched the rim of a cauldron. "There's so much dust…"

"Nothing here had been touched in years," Hermione agreed softly.

"Let's see if there's anything useful," Neville said, going over the walls and beginning to search through the shelves and cupboards. Neville, who had been in a state of shock when they'd arrived, appeared to have rapidly progressed through depression, bargaining, apathy, anger, and exhaustion, before settling on general irritated determination. This had manifested in a general rebelliousness against the Ministry that culminated in the middle of the morning with him fixing an old crossbow to the central embrasure at the parapets that overlooked the entrance to the island. Ginny, who was impressed, had to reluctantly help Harry convince Neville that no, more fortifications were not needed at this point in time. Maybe later. Somehow, Neville had managed to remain soft-spoken and almost reticent the entire time, which unnerved everyone. Except Luna. Harry wasn't sure anything unnerved Luna.

"It looks like the stasis charms wore off centuries ago," Hermione sighed, uncorking a bottle Neville passed her and giving it a sniff. "Ugh! What is this?" She checked the label. "Snake guts. Definitely rotten."

"Yeuch! Spider legs," Ron commented, dropping a box on the floor. "Also rotten."

"I guess we can give anything perishable a miss," Harry said. "Shame, really."

"Shouldn't everything be perishable?" Ginny asked, holding a bottle of what used to be niffler snot as far away from her as she could.

"Not necessarily," Hermione said slowly. "Any powders or dried things might still be good."

"Poisonous things, too," Luna added.

"So, no, no, no, no," Neville said, throwing bottles behind him, where Harry caught them out of the air and dumped them in Ron's arms, who dropped them in a cauldron. "No, no… chimera toxin? Okay, that's a maybe…" he handed the vial to Hermione, who gave it to Luna, who gave it to Ginny, who grinned evilly. "No, no, no… adder fangs… no, no, no, no, definitely not, nope, no… hey, what's this?" He held up a small round ampoule. It was half full of a deep grey liquid and seemed strangely familiar.

"The label's written in runes," Harry observed. "Recognize anything, Hermione?"

Hermione squinted at the label. "I don't think we've learned those yet."

"Feel it, too," Neville invited, and Hermione gasped as she did. Neville nodded. "It's freezing."

"It doesn't seem to be off," Ginny said, as Neville shook the ampoule a little, making the liquid splash freely around.

"No," Hermione agreed. "It's weird, though. I wouldn't open it until we can read the label."

"Alright," Neville said, handing over the ampoule and continuing on. As they continued, they unearthed a few useful things, like various venoms and, interestingly enough, powdered dragon ribs; not that anyone really noticed, as their minds kept straying. In the end, they only cleared out all the open shelves and one cupboard, before they all went upstairs with their finds. Neville and Luna sorted things out, Ron started making lunch, Harry and Ginny started researching combative spells, and Hermione vanished into the depths of the library. Concentrating on anything, though, was hard, because somehow the liquid seemed both ominous and fascinating, and it loomed over their minds for a good while before they could settle back into the swing of things.

* * *

"I knew there was something up with that bottle!" Hermione said as she exploded into Neville's room.

"Huh?" Ginny asked. "Go Fish, Luna."

"Hmmm," Luna said, picking up a card and adding it to her already obscenely large hand.

Hermione thrust the ampoule right into Harry's face and he recoiled. "Merlin, Hermione! Don't do that! That bottle – it's weird, and I don't want it in my face!"

"And why is it weird?" Hermione persisted.

"I don't know! It's just cold and ominous and –" Harry paused for a moment. " –I think it's got some kind of leak, or else its properties can escape the glass, because it's giving me a headache and… and making me feel depressed."

"That's unsurprising," Hermione said, withdrawing her hand, "Since the label says 'Dementor Essence'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided the Ministry is full of idiots. You can quote me on that.


	5. This Place is an Insane Asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Luna smuggled a wand into Azkaban in her ear.  
> Children promptly ran amok.  
> Hedwig dive-bombed a toad and a letter broke Kingsley's brain.  
> Children played castle with deadly weapons and wards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is in the first chapter. Randomly throws wand into the air.

It was quite lucky Luna had installed the wards, actually, because within a week they were set off by an Auror delegation arriving on the shores of Azkaban. Starting with humming, then a chime, then some obnoxious trumpeting noises, Harry was very, very glad the resident children were the only people who would be hearing this, considering he was starting to get a headache and the Aurors would not take kindly to out-of-tune instruments being blasted at them. Still, he was thankful for the warnings, if only because helping Neville sharpen crossbow bolts wasn't the most prison-friendly thing to be caught doing.

So Harry went back to his old cell, locked the door, and stuffed the wand he had acquired under his mattress. He then sat in his cell and pretended to be miserable, which, considering the fact his mattress was now even lumpier than would be comfortable, was surprisingly easy. In a way, he was miserable, really – now that the busy atmosphere, the myriad tasks, the exploration and the novelty of a whole new castle died down, he was reminded rather painfully of his situation; he was imprisoned, on a rock in the middle of nowhere, away from where he could be helping, away from his surrogate family, while a madman roamed the country unchecked. And for what? For his hand in a Ministry PR disaster – for his vain attempts to save his godfather.

He could hear Luna humming to herself next door, and the sound of a rock scraping against another. What exactly was she doing, marking the days? Probably not, though what she was doing would probably lay far outside of the boundaries of his thoughts. Ginny was angry, Neville was determined, Ron was irate, Hermione was motivated, Harry was depressed. Luna was, as usual, just herself. Pleasant, with a mischievous glint in her eye that hovered just beyond the point of certain recognition, away with the fairies yet with her feet firmly planted on the ground. Clever, but not in a normal way. Sweet, yet not saccharine. A wonderful constant in a world turned upside down.

If he had been stuck as the Ministry had intended, he decided, he would have been lucky to have Luna as his neighbour.

The final warning sounded, the loud, sharp noise cutting through the silence of Azkaban, a silence they had gotten used to that was now further broken by the sound of feet. Harry strained his ears to pick up the noises – there were, what, two pairs?

"Three," Luna said dreamily. "The third doesn't want to walk too much."

"Ah," Harry said, not bothering to ask how she'd managed to read his mind. Maybe it had to do with the Dementor Essence she and Hermione had been studying.

"I wonder who they're bringing us," Luna continued cheerily. "If it's a friend, we'll have to be cross, of course, but it would be nice, I suppose, though not on their part."

"And what if it's an enemy?" Harry asked in a low voice, aware of the sound of feet getting louder.

Luna hummed. "We'd have to do something about that, wouldn't we, especially if they're placed nearby…"

"How exactly are we meant to deal with someone who could spill at any moment?" Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Especially if they're near us."

"Silly Harry," Luna chirped. "There are plenty of ways to silence someone. I'm sure you could ask the Minister about them. Or Professor Lockhart?"

"Um," said Harry.

"Hush," Luna whispered. "They're coming near. Pretend you're a glumbumble."

* * *

The Aurors didn't end up walking past Harry's cell, something he found to be quite a relief, as he was unsure how much taunting he could take before he snapped and cursed one of them. Although he could probably get away with it, it wasn't as if the DMLE would notice if a couple of Aurors went missing on a trip to Azkaban, and he didn't particularly want to be implicated in that – and besides, with no idea of who they were bringing in, it was a good deal safer to wait until they were (fairly) well locked away before he started gallivanting around the halls attacking people.

He found the prisoner stunned within a cell near the centre of the level, sprawled in the centre of the floor and completely out to it, while Ron and Ginny watched with interest.

"Who is it?" Harry called out as he approached them.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno, mate. Never seen him before."

"Smells something awful," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. "You'd think they'd do us the courtesy of cleaning off our housemates before they come here."

"The bastard doesn't know what courtesy is," Ron snorted. "Except for the tricks Malfoy taught him, I suppose."

Luna cocked her head as she gazed at the form within the bars. "I don't recognise him either."

"It's not saying much, though," Ginny sighed. "Death Eaters wear masks, and they aren't the only thugs out there. He could be anything from a petty thief to a recently-crowned mass murderer."

" _Wingardium Leviosa,_ " Luna intoned, lifting the sleeves of the prisoner's robes. "Oh, goody."

"No Dark Mark," Harry noted. "That's a start, I s'pose. He can't exactly contact Voldemort without a Dark Mark…"

"That tells us nothing more than he's not one of You-Know-Who's main cronies, though," Ginny grumbled. "And now we can't exactly tip him off the parapets, because we don't have a reason."

"When did you get this vicious?" Ron asked.

"A week ago, brother dear. So, how do we question him without him realising?"

"We could wipe his memories," Harry said, "But we don't actually know that we're good enough to do that."

"We wouldn't know he was telling the truth, either," Ron realised. "Hey, is there a way we can get a hold of some Veritaserum?"

"No alihotsy, at the very least," Luna sighed. "Neville is very good with plants, he could grow the ingredients, if we had the seeds."

"That's still a delay of weeks," Harry groaned. "What's the alternative?"

"Stun him every few minutes, or avoid this corridor very, very carefully," Ginny grumbled. "Really, it's more trouble than it's worth. Aren't you lucky I whispered the spell instead of screaming it like half the DA always did?"

Harry chuckled slightly. "Yes, well… do you think if we hit him really, really hard over the head, he'd be knocked out for a good while?"

"That sounds like something I'd come up with," Ron said flatly, "And even I know that's a bad idea. If it's hard enough to knock him out, it's hard enough to kill him by accident."

Ginny nodded. "I couldn't count the number of times Mum said something like that when warning us about Bludgers. And going near Fred and George."

"This corridor is defunct," Luna pointed out. "We don't need it. I could put up muffling wards around the area and he'd be none the wiser."

"Let's add some red paint, too," Ron said. "Or else someone's going to forget."

Ginny grinned. "I agree. And anyway, it adds to the décor."

* * *

Harry walked past the marked hallways, eyes lingering on their handiwork. Ginny had insisted on deep red, darker than roses, darker than maroon, even. Splatters across the walls in the colour and form of blood. If things escalated, its real brother might join it, marring the stone alongside false warnings. Sometimes, Ginny could be scary, especially when she was pissed – and she had been pissed when she realised Dawlish hadn't locked the cell properly. The implications of this had apparently sat somewhere at the fore of her mind when she had created the gruesome reminders.

Harry didn't bother lingering, though, having found out that he felt lighter the more he did – exploring, cooking, helping Neville create murder traps on the parapets, cleaning, decorating, reading Hedwig's long-awaited letter. It was a little out of date, and Hedwig was a little ruffled, but it was nothing purple mince and some loud anti-Ministry vitriol couldn't cure. Harry walked on past the silenced corridor and moved on towards the top layer, carrying with him a map he had copied down and a pot of recently rehydrated red ink. Neville wanted to mark out the physical defences around the tower and pin it up in the keep. They weren't the only ones moving faster – after the scare earlier in the day, the other teens also seemed to have stepped it up a notch. The Ministry had placed another prisoner in Azkaban, possibly even attempted to harm them within the prison; there wasn't much time to waste. Not that they had a real, definite goal yet – though Harry had an inkling that Luna was planning something, considering how emphatic she was about placing wards everywhere in the castle.

The girl in question, Harry noted as he walked past, was sitting in the courtyard and, along with his bushy-haired friend, was slowly working her way through a large stack of books. Both were apparently completely engrossed with their work – Hermione looked more frazzled than usual, Luna was sticking her tongue out slightly, and both were scribbling rather quickly on endless reams of parchment. A far cry from Ron, who was intent on writing a reply to the Order as quickly as possible, and Ginny, who had apparently found a duelling room and was practicing on an unfortunate lump of stone.

"Nev?" Harry popped his head up above the safety wall to see Neville fiddling with a final crossbow, meticulously adjusting its angle downwards towards the entrance to the island.

"Mmm?" Neville bent down, looking along the weapon to figure out where the bolts would go.

"I got the map."

"Yeah, Harry… one second…" Neville frowned, twitching the crossbow slightly to the left. "D'you think it would be better to have it aiming at the dock or covering the path?"

"You already aimed three at the dock, I'd say the path," Harry replied, spreading the map out on the ground and securing it with a few of the pebbles that seemed to be lying everywhere around the fortress.

"Right…" Neville aimed the crossbow down. "I think that's it… obhaeresco!" he tapped the crossbow, before letting go, leaving the weapon stuck fast to the stone.

"You're getting better at that," Harry observed.

"Practice," Neville said grimly, adding the bolt and walking around to the map. "Could you pass me a quill?"

Harry did as requested. "How dangerous, exactly, are these things?"

"Dangerous enough to go all the way through one of those thinner doors down in the dungeons," Neville replied, doodling little triangles all the way around the castle outline.

"AK on a stick, you think?" Harry asked.

Neville frowned. "I guess it depends where it hits them…"

Harry paused, thinking for a moment. "Sorry. I… hope we never have to used them."

Neville sighed. "Me too, Harry. But we've got to have them, just in case. I wouldn't put it past the Ministry to quietly have us all snuff it if we got too troublesome. And if that happens…"

"Ginny thinks it already has, and she took it out on the walls," Harry said.

Neville nodded. "I saw that, but I didn't realise why, I was busy with this…"

"Dawlish left the door half unlocked," Harry told him. "So if the prisoner jiggled it too much, it would have unlocked."

"Merlin," Neville muttered. "I think I hate that guy."

"You and me both," Harry agreed solemnly. "So," he continued, as Neville finished drawing lines from the triangles to spots on the island, "What now?"

Neville wrinkled his nose slightly. "I don't think we need more protection right now…"

"Luna said something about seeing if we could get some plants for you to grow," Harry offered. "They'd all be potions ingredients, but you do seem to like that kind of thing."

Neville nodded slowly. "That'd be good."

* * *

_Dear Professor D., Professor L., Tonks, Fred, George, Mum, Dad,_

_It's good to know the Order is in one piece. Lay low; you've seen exactly what Fudge is capable of._

_We're really getting on in here. Warded the place with alarm wards, Luna did – they alerted us to a new arrival, and we were all safely in our cells pretending to be broken when they brought him in. We don't know who he is, though. If anyone knows who's been arrested recently, it'd be nice to know who and why, without having to try to cook up some ridiculous potion. If you could send us some of the following seeds, somehow, that would be nice._

\- _Alihotsy_

\- _Rhubarb_

\- _Shrivelfig_

\- _Daisy_

\- _Poppy (I promise we won't do anything dumb with the flowers)_

\- _Winding Windpipe Vine_

\- _Venomous Tentacula_

_The prisoner was brought in by two Aurors – Dawlish and Robards, I think. Dawlish left his cell door half unlocked. Ginny nearly had a heart attack when she found out – she thinks he did it intentionally to harm us. We locked him in, don't worry, Mum._

_Are we in the paper yet? Surely someone's noticed us missing._

_Congrats, Fred and George. See if you can convince them to let us in._

_Love,_

_Ron (And Ginny, and Luna, and Harry, and Hermione, and Neville)_

_P.S. Does anyone know what Dementor Essence is?_

* * *

_Dear Grandpa Brian, Aunt Lupa, Aunt Iris, Flip and Grip, Daddy, Mummy_

_I'm so glad your shop is going well! Careful of those Quintapeds, they're vicious._

_Azkaban can be quite alarming at night, especially because sometimes I think I hear footsteps, but other than that everything's quiet. It's not like I can break out, is it? Anyway, I heard someone else come in today. I wonder who it is? I wish I had Morgana's potion for seeing through walls so I could find out. But I don't think alihotsy would like my mattress very much. And anyway, I need it for bouncing on._

_I find myself craving rhubarb pie. Or maybe a nice fig crumble with some white fragrant plimpy soup? I know the red is more common but that can be distilled and make you drunk. Not that I've tried. I nibbled on some of the vines on the outside of the castle, but they weren't very nice, and they got stuck in my throat. Still, better than the Venomous Tentacula._

_Dawlish seems to come often. He's almost like a friend, I guess, since he seems to bring in all the prisoners. Except he won't let me go for a walk. Bugger – I bet he let the new guy go for a walk. Ginny always said I'd have a heart attack if I didn't exercise, but I'm locked in here, stuck in one place. Like you, Mummy._

_Surely the heliopaths are moving?_

_I hope the pixies are good to you. Pixies are wonderful. I wonder if a human can become a pixie animagus?_

_Love,_

_Your June Rose, and all other flowers_

"Is writing these usually this embarassing?" Ron moaned, face in his hands as Luna coaxed Hedwig over.

"Could have been worse, mate," Harry snorted. "Lupin got turned into a lady. That's much worse than being a flower."

"Why?" Luna asked.

Harry blinked, thought for a moment, and decided that, with the general mood in the castle, it was best not to be quite so reckless. "You know what? Never mind."

* * *

"These are interesting wards," Hermione noted, reading Luna's list. "But they'd be quite difficult to chain together…"

"Nordic runes would be easier than basic," Luna pointed out. "And I always liked Egyptian."

"What do we need a ward that turns a single attacker into a guinea pig for? And why can it be reversed with a Vitamin B12 overdose?"

"I don't know what Vitamin B12 is," Luna said dreamily. "But guinea pigs are rather sweet. Perhaps I could alter the parameters and turn them into Blibbering Humdingers instead…"

"Er…" Hermione moved on. "I ran some Arithmetic tests on the Dementor Essence. It didn't tell me anything."

"I didn't expect it to," Luna smiled. "No-one knows anything about dementors, after all. They're as mysterious as the Snorcack."

Hermione bit her lip. "I know… I'm just worried. Ginny was right, you know. That man could have been anyone, and they just dumped him."

Luna just nodded seriously, copying down a ward that caused any nearby geese to dive-bomb intruders.

Hermione's eyes strayed to the stacks of books, then up to the sky. Despite the torch they had taken with them, it was getting dark – its green light wasn't enough to let them read in the dead of night. And anyway, it was getting cold. "I guess we had better go back… we can go read more tomorrow."

"We can," Luna agreed. "Shall we go through the potions section, now that we've sent for more resources?"

Hermione thought for a moment, hesitated, then opened her mouth. "Luna, what do you think about looking for what the essence does in the darker books?"

Luna tilted her head a little. "Of course. I thought you'd never ask."


	6. A Time Skip In Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Luna smuggled a wand into Azkaban in her ear.  
> Children promptly ran amok.  
> Hedwig dive-bombed a toad and a letter broke Kingsley's brain.  
> Children played castle with deadly weapons and wards.  
> Harry angsted and the Ministry attempted to kill/uh... questionable the Ministry Six. They're okay, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is in the first chapter. Let's go!

Kingsley blinked at the letter, then at Hedwig, then at the letter.

"Hoot," Hedwig said smugly, snuggling deeper into a tea-cosy. The owl had once again trashed an entire floor of the Ministry all by herself. This time, it had been the Auror office. Kingsley and Tonks both still had feathers stuck to their clothing.

Kingsley continued looking blankly at the letter. "Merlin," he said weakly.

Fred grinned at the bemused man. "They've finally broken him," he whispered to George, who cackled. "They said it couldn't be done. But they've finally done it. They've killed Kingsley."

"I can see why Fudge let this past," Tonks commented, reading over Kingsley's shoulder. "I've seen letters that make more sense out of alcoholics."

"I don't understand what they're doing," Professor McGonagall sighed, "But you all seem very enthusiastic about it."

"Hey, Georgie, I think Ron wrote this one," Fred said, squinting at the final line. "I guess Luna translated, but there's no way Luna's the June Rose. She'd sign off normally, right?"

"You're forgetting that Luna isn't normal, but it's possible," George said thoughtfully.

"It's genius," Mad-Eye stated, causing a few heads to swivel around. "They should teach this to the Auror recruits, in case they're captured."

Fred frowned. "Er, Mad-Eye? Exactly how often do Aurors get captured by people as incompetent as the Ministry?"

"That's past the point. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Mad-Eye barked, slamming his hand against the table with an alarming thump.

Molly, who was at that moment trying to cook dinner, paused for a moment to glance over the letter. "She's craving rhubarb pie? Or Ron is?"

"I don't think that's what it actually means," Remus said soothingly.

"Not that Azkaban food's any good, as we've established," Tonks said bluntly.

Kingsley sighed. "I suppose we had better figure out what we're going to do with this, then."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Write a reply. Duh."

"Once we figure out what it means, of course," George added.

"Of course, my uglier twin."

* * *

Lupin waved a sheet of parchment in front of an irate Severus Snape while Fred and George started writing back and Tonks ranted about corruption, Blacks, portraits, and stabbing people with butter knives. "Severus, does this conclusion make any sense?"

"What the hell have those awful children done now?" Snape grumbled. Still, he took the patchment and skimmed over it, eyebrows rising slowly as he did so. "Lupin," he asked, too incredulous to be sharp, "Why the hell are those children making Veritaserum?"

Lupin sighed. "Don't tell Molly, but it appears the Ministry left a violent and, well, rather dirty man in the prison with them. Able to escape his cell, apparently, although they got the jump on him before anything could happen."

Snape groaned and barely resisted the urge to hit his head against a wall. "You know what? I'm not even going to ask anymore. How did you get all of that out of the letter, anyway? It's gibberish."

"Sirius did something like that once. Fred and George are a great help at decoding it, Tonks is good at making stuff up."

"Ah," Snape said. "So Black was a madman after all. So how much useful information are we actually getting, wolf?"

Remus sighed. "On things outside of the prison? Nothing. On what they're doing, everything comes out of there. Except the bit about who it was, ergo the Veritaserum ingredients. Although I don't think the Winding Vines are a part of it…"

"They're not," Snape said sharply. "They're up to something."

"Well," Remus said, "At least there aren't – unsavoury – types roaming the hall."

Snape groaned to himself. "Considering the awful temper on the Weasley girl," he said shortly, "I don't think they'll be capable of roaming much longer."

* * *

_Our Dear Rose,_

_Oh, my, that is a slight predicament. Do make sure the Wibbling Vorpents don't attack you at night, that would be awful. I believe your new friend would be Eldritch Weatherby, a charming young man with a delightful way with children. Do make sure you're nice to him, dear Luna._

_I'm afraid we cannot send you rhubarb pie, but we have sent your some lovely flowers to brighten up your room. They're only poppies, I'm afraid, that was all we could find, but they are rather pretty all the same. Hopefully, they are not wilted by the time you receive them._

_Say hello to Dawlish, won't you? Though it's a shame he won't let you out for a walk._

_The heliopaths are strangely silent. We will begin tracking them for clues. Perhaps they are planning a convergence? They are much stronger in groups._

_There is no record of pixie animagi, but that doesn't mean it's not possible._

_Love,_

_Your Family._

The walls of the cell block shook and Ginny grinned.

"Don't you think that was a little overpowered?" Hermione asked.

Ginny waved her hand. "You can't overpower a stunner in a young person."

"So… remind me why you've been stunning him for the last half hour?"

"It's cathartic," Ginny said, as if it were obvious.

Hermione sighed. "I really shouldn't have taught you that word."

"It's not like the stunning spells do any real damage," Ginny pointed out. "Aren't we still playing possum?"

Hermione shook her head and wandered off. "Be at the cells in an hour. Harry's cooking again."

"Ooh." Ginny looked away from the stunned prisoner for a moment. "What's he making?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I just hope it's better than what Luna made yesterday."

_Dear My Wonderful Family_

_Don't worry about the Wibbling Vorpents. Ginny has always repelled them for me, and I doubt she'll stop now. Thank you so much for the flowers; they're beautiful and have truly lit up the place. Take care of our garden for me, please. I just remembered I can't exactly water the Sleeping Lilies while I'm here. Also, the worms were eating Mister Stump last time. Make sure they stop._

_Outside my cell there isn't much of a view, but apparently blue-tinted moss and orange shrub grows quite well on rocks._

_Have you ever heard of Insanity Essence? I read about it in a book by some Roman emperor before I got here. I was wondering if you knew what it was. It's been bugging me for a while. Maybe Dawlish took some?_

_If the Heliopaths come, don't forget that the yellow-flamed spectacled Heliopath is particular susceptible to ladybeetles as a repellent._

_Don't worry about me. I met a snail and named him Mister Slug. He's my new friend._

_Love,_

_Luna_

Fred threw the first part of the translation at Kingsley, who caught it and quickly uncrumpled it, narrowly stopping the stew becoming parchment flavoured. He quickly scanned over the slip. "That's good," he said slowly. "It would be a concern if they were having problems neutralizing the problem."

"Why can't you and Tonks do anything?" George asked somewhat irritably, starting on the next piece.

"Tonks and I could both be let go quite quickly," Kingsley replied evenly. "Tonks is lucky; they let her near the island because they see her as harmless. I'm not allowed near the island – off the record, of course – because the Minister thinks I might be pro-Dumbledore, but can't prove anything."

"Poor dears," Molly sighed. "Eat up, Fred, you can't live on those candies of yours."

"They're working at an advantage, at least," Remus pointed out. "They're all fairly good at fighting – no, George, I don't think moss stands in for monkeys – wasn't Harry teaching them the Patronus right before they got sprung?"

"That would explain getting woken up by a stoat Patronus sitting on my windpipe," Arthur realised.

Fred and George immediately each pointed at the other twin. "Scamps," Mad-Eye grumbled. "Still, it's a clear security breach."

Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall chose that moment to enter the room. "Ah, I see we've received another letter," Dumbledore beamed.

"The good news is they've neutralized the new prisoner," Tonks volunteered. "Also, something about Rita Skeeter being scared of beetles, if you believe George…"

"Professor Snape, what's got wormwood and lilies in it?"

The potions master blinked. "What kind a lily?" he asked suspiciously.

"Sleeping ones," Fred said promptly.

Snape groaned. "That was a hint, you idiots. Asphodel lilies. They make the Draught of Living Death, among other things! They're making the Draught of Living Death – why do I do this, Albus?"

"Out of the good of your heart?" Dumbledore suggested.

"They want blue-tinted moss and orange shrubs, whatever those are, too," Fred added.

"Bluewing moths and tincture of orange myrtle," Snape translated slowly. "That would do nothing on its own…"

"Did Roman emperors ever write anything on insanity? I was under the impression they were busy being insane," Remus said slowly, looking over Fred's shoulder.

"She's reinforcing her own sanity?" Tonks suggested.

Mad-Eye snorted, eye spinning lazily. "The Lovegoods embrace insanity."

"Albus," McGonagall interjected. "Isn't the Latin root for insanity where we get the word 'dementor' from?"

There was a brief silence, before Molly mumbled, "I hope they don't do anything stupid."

Arthur patted her shoulder gently.

"What about Mister Slug?" George piped up.

* * *

_Our Dearest Moonflower_

_It's good to hear Ginny can repel the Vorpents. We were so very concerned that they were out to get you. Your friend should be proud of herself. We've sent you a cutting from the yard – they're flowering beautifully. Unfortunately, the worms have set up a house in Mr Stump and won't move._

_I'm afraid none of us have read your book. None of us knows quite what Insanity Essence is, I'm afraid. We must research more. For instance, does it cure or cause insanity? What is insanity, really?_

_Your warning is indeed something we had forgotten. We shall collect all the beetles to ward off the heliopaths._

_Give Mr Slug Flip and Grip's love._

_Your Family_

"Not more prisoners," Neville grumbled.

"Any idea how we're going to explain away a frying-pan bruise to the head?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. "Can't you just say he fainted in shock?"

Neville hefted the frying pan. "We've got other things to worry about. I can't help cook with a dented pan."

"You know, Dawlish left the door unlocked on this one, but not this one," Harry observed. "Hey, what's that?"

Luna bent down and picked it up. "Ooh! A knife. Shiny, too." She passed it to Neville. "Here. They ward of the Vorpents."

"They're definitely trying to kill us," Ginny concluded, slightly pink in the face. "So what now?"

"We're halfway through analysing the dementor essence," Hermione muttered. "We need more time…"

"We can just lock the doors. It's not like they can prove we've done anything," Ron said. "Plus, we have to send another letter. We just got a reply, and a flower just exploded into more flowers, among other things."

"Also, there's an entire dungeon room overrun by spiders," Harry piped up.

"Not again," Ginny moaned. "It was painful enough cleaning the last one up."

Ron turned pale green. "What do you mean, the last one?"

* * *

_Dear Uncle Brian,_

_The Vorpents arrived in a resurgence. Luckily, I was too quick for them._

_Dawlish brought us more friends. They don't say much, though I guess there's a bit of a distance between us and them. It's lonely._

_The lilies are blooming wonderfully, aren't they? I wish I could grow a cutting, but they don't like the rocks a lot. I wonder why. I think they're very pretty._

_There are a lot of spiders here. They're friendly, but icky. Like Blibbering Humdingers._

_I think I halfway understood about Insanity Essence, but I want to think about it for longer. There's a lot of time to think here. I miss the Thestrals. They're beautiful horses._

_Do tell me when your shop takes off. I can't wait._

_Love,_

_Moonflower_

Dumbledore was not twinkling.

"They really are trying to quietly off them, aren't they?" Tonks worried.

"Have faith," Kingsley said. "They are skilled. They will pull through."

Molly sniffled. "How do we know, though? All of them are so young."

"If they have any sense, they'll keep the prisoners drugged as much as they can," Snape muttered. "Or poison them. Goodness knows Longbottom could do that without trying."

* * *

"Dolores," Fudge mumbled, "Are you sure the girl isn't passing on secret messages?"

Umbridge rolled her eyes slightly, out of Fudge's view. "Yes, Cornelius. Look at her, writing letters in mud. The family is all either crazy, or no more than animals."

"Pandora was quite clever," Fudge worried.

"She was also a disobedient, moonstruck little irritant. They're out of the way," Umbridge sighed. "And will be out of the equation soon."

"I certainly hope so," Fudge muttered.

Percy, sitting at his desk and scribbling his way through endless reports, felt grumpy. Nobody ever told him what was going on.

* * *

"SHIT!"

Ron looked up to see Harry, Ginny and Luna running along the hallway, followed by a man who was nearly as wide as he was tall. This would be amusing, except that the girth was entirely made of muscle.

"How the hell did he get out?" Harry yelled. "There are wards on the bars, he shouldn't have been able to break them!"

"Dawlish must have removed them! He got 12 O's on his OWLs, remember?" Ginny yelled back.

Ron decided to go alert Neville as Luna yelled a spell and the three teenagers half ran, half fell, half slid down a staircase that promptly turned into a slide. Ron ran up to the third cell level and found Neville staring at a map with a large spike in one hand and his wand in the other. "Nev! Crazy Murder-Hobo got out!"

"Crazy Murder-Hobo? You sure it's him and not Failed assassin?" Neville asked.

"Yes, and he's chasing Harry, Luna and Ginny around. Thought you might want to know. They were headed towards the courtyard…"

Neville grabbed Ron and dragged him off to the sides. "This way! I found a passage that gets us to the parapets quickly."

The two boys ran down a tunnel made of the same reinforced black stone as the ward room, until Neville pushed aside a tattered tapestry and they popped out into the open. "Wow," Ron commented, looking around at the wide array of stakes, crossbows, and vaguely dangerous looking objects fixed to the walls. They drew a sharp contrast to the small gardens growing every few yards. "You fixed this up nicely."

"You can admire it later," Neville said, though he blushed a little. "Here, I can see them from this spot. Grab a bow and try not to murder any of our friends, okay? Push the catch down and try to drive Murder-Hobo into a corner."

"Alright, sounds good," Ron agreed, stepping behind a bow. "Works like a wand?"

"Sort of. You can only aim a little, since I stuck them to the wall. Also, the bolts drop down after a while. Other than that, pretty much."

"Great," Ron muttered, watching his sister, who was apparently attempting to take Crazy Murder-Hobo's head off with some unusually violent jinxes. Harry, on the other hand, was being thoroughly uninventive.

"There," Neville muttered, pushing the catch down on the crossbow and sending a bolt straight into the middle of the fray. Ron followed suit, right as Luna yelled something and Harry cast a basic shield. The bolt bounced off the shield, narrowly missed Murder-Hobo, and landed on the floor. Fortunately, whatever Luna had yelled hit its mark, probably because nearly getting skewered is a distraction for any person, psychotic killer or not. The spell was closely followed by one of Ginny's hexes, and the combination mutated into something quite vicious, thoroughly knocking the crazed man unconscious.

When Ron and Neville arrived at the courtyard, the other three had tied the bulky attacker up and confiscated a wand from him.

"Where do you think he got it?" Neville asked anxiously. "We hid the chest."

"It's not one of ours," Luna said reassuringly. "It's a combination of elder, blackthorn and dragon. None of ours were like that."

"A relief, I suppose," Harry said. "But that was close. We all nearly got his at least twice each."

"So what now?" Ron asked. "We can't always rely on that. Besides, the turrets were meant to be in case we got attacked by V-Vol-Voldemort –" he shook his head slightly, "—so we could defend in a way he wouldn't expect, right?"

"That was my idea, that and if the Ministry tried to overtly attack us," Neville confirmed.

Luna shrugged. "Vorpents move in strange ways. They haven't gathered the Heliopaths, yet, either."

"Uh, guys?" Hermione had left the keep and was now looking at the man tied up on the ground. "What happened?"

"Escaped, attacked, lost," Harry said. "Where were you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione sighed, "I didn't hear, I swear. I was working on the runes – I figured it out, Luna, I got them all to chain together with some of the original wards, too!"

Luna smiled. "Well done, Hermione."

"So, can we dump this sucker in the sea or something?" Ginny asked.

"Won't that kill him?" Hermione asked.

Neville frowned. "At this point, I think you're the only one who cares."

"If we do," Ron pointed out, "We lose the sense of surprise."

"We have to lock down eventually," Harry said. "We just need the right time."

"Better now than later," Ginny said grimly. "We can finally move the to the dungeon cells. They're much more secure, and we can start converting the cell blocks. Besides, I want to be able to practice in peace."

"Once we start, we can't go back," Neville warned. "We'll have to do a lot of extra fortification - I've been planning for this, and I'll have to work for at least an entire day non-stop for the physical ones."

"The way I see it," Harry said eventually, "We don't have a lot of choice. We're only at an advantage because we know the castle. They have surprise on their side, and magical power."

"It's settled. We dump him in the sea and start today," Ginny said with conviction. "All the other prisoners can either be dumped or popped in the dungeon. The deep bit. Possibly with the spiders."

Ron shuddered.

"I'll go with you," Hermione sighed.

"We've still got to dispose of them," Ginny warned sharply.

Hermione nodded. "I know, but someone needs to keep you humane."

"Rude," Ginny grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a review that this was a bit hard to read on FF.net, but it was only one... I hope this is okay for you!


	7. Hermione is a Geek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Luna smuggled a wand into Azkaban in her ear.  
> Children promptly ran amok.  
> Hedwig dive-bombed a toad and a letter broke Kingsley's brain.  
> Children played castle with deadly weapons and wards.  
> Harry angsted and the Ministry attempted to kill/uh... questionable the Ministry Six. They're okay, though.  
> That's it, we're renaming the Ministry to the League of Assassin Acquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is in the first chapter. Let us advance.

Duck.  
Shield.  
Cast.  
Duck.  
Cast.  
Cast.  
Duck.  
Cast…

"You know," Ginny said, picking herself up off the floor and walking over to her wand, "You'd be an awful lot more dangerous if you used more than three spells in battle. Not that you aren't good at those three, of course."

"I know," Harry replied with a slight sigh. "I can't believe I never picked up on it during DA."

"You were busy," Ginny replied. "Stupefy."

Harry dodged to the left of the red beam, readying his wand again. "Expelliarmus! I guess. I mostly just taught them – protego – the basics, though, you know, enough to get them to safety easily."

"That – expelliarmus – worked out just fine – vespertilio nasus bombarda – last week," Ginny pointed out, slipping out of the way.

"Yeah, although – stupefy! – he certainly attacked a little differently to your normal – expelliarmus – Death Eater. More… erratic, I guess," Harry pointed out.

Ginny frowned. "Petrificus totalus! Aguamenti! Expelliarmus!"

Harry ducked and skidded slightly across the floor. "One moment, Gin."

Ginny pocketed her wand. "I guess I win, then."

"Mm," Harry grumbled. "I just want to talk without having curses thrown at me, is that too much to ask?"

"Possibly. What's eating you?" Ginny sat down next to Harry on the stone floor, crossing her legs and leaning towards him slightly. "You're usually better than this. Come to think of it, you've been a little down this whole time."

Harry shrugged.

Ginny poked his face. "No. Spill, Scarhead."

Harry shrugged again. "I… guess it's getting a little messy, that's all. We keep sending letters there and back but we've got nothing to go on, and moving the prisoners is getting messy. The wards go off every day, sometimes more. We had a second breakout from main cell block yesterday and that was a mess. I don't really know what's going on anymore."

Ginny crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly. "Hm. I suppose that would weigh on you. Now, another question for you. How exactly did Luna get in charge?"

Harry sighed. "I don't really know, honestly. I guess she was the only one of us smart enough to get around the Ministry in the first place, and… I wasn't really up for running things, so she stepped up. I mean, Hermione is always studying, you're fighting, Neville's growing plants or building things, Ron and I are exploring the castle. Luna sort of… drifts, and I guess she picked it up and ran with it."

Ginny shuffled over. "I've been angry," she confessed idly. "I was really, really furious when we first got locked up. I nearly bit my Auror, and I definitely bruised a few shins. I just… couldn't believe they'd lock us up instead of the Death Eaters. Ron was angry too, I think."

"Mmm?" Harry looked at her.

Ginny nodded vigorously. "Did you notice? Neville kept working at everything he found in the castle. He won't stop, he just has to keep fortifying this place. I don't think he can stop, at the moment."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "He grows his plants or builds up the traps. He spends all day up at the parapets. Hermione just keeps reading, too, like nothing's really there."

"But Hermione can stop," Ginny pointed out, and Harry winced. "I suppose so. Now that I think of it, it can't be good for Nev to be like that."

"He'll have a reason soon," Harry sighed. "They haven't done a cell check yet, but they have to soon. And then they'll discover quite a few missing people."

"Well, what about you?" Ginny asked.

"I'm fine," Harry replied.

"Mmhm. We'll see, Harry," Ginny said. But she got up, offered him her hand, and cleared up the battle room. "Lunchtime?"

"I s'pose so," Harry agreed. "Who's cooking?"

"Hermione," Ginny informed him.

Harry turned somewhat green. "You know, it may be safer to skip eating."

"Nonsense," Ginny beamed. "If the house elves can stand her hats, you can stand her cooking."

"I mean, it's fine when it's just eggs," Harry grumbled. "But when it's anything else… house elves don't have to eat the hats, you know…"

* * *

Lunch was just about edible. Out of all of them, Harry trusted Hermione's cooking the least. Sure, she was pretty good at using magic with it, but the difference in palatability between scrambled eggs and cooked carrots was far too great for comfort, although, on the bright side, if they ever needed to scare off some Death Eaters, they could make do with using the water the vegetables had been cooked in rather than boiling tar. Hermione's sprouts had just about died sometime between box and plate, the potatoes had dried out into sand, and the meat was cooked perfectly. So much for normality.

After they'd cleaned up, Harry and Ron went back down to explore the dungeons once more. Despite the simple layout of the rest of the castle, the dungeons were a labyrinth of rooms, just the sort of place you half expected to find a monster lurking around the corner. Ron swore some of the rooms moved, just like in Hogwarts, though Harry thought that was more a by-product of homesickness than anything else. There always seemed to be a new place down there, though, ranging from another set of holding cells, to laboratories, to cold, empty expanses that still seemed to hold the presence of Dementors.

"Aargh, the midgets are here again…"

The voice was raspy and grating. As much as they wanted to use the Draught of Living Death, Hermione insisted they should at least wait until they were sure Azkaban was theirs. When they had decided to take over Azkaban, Harry wasn't quite sure, but that was where things were going. The problem with leaving the other prisoners without sedation was, of course, that an awake prisoner was liable to talk.

"Naughty, I think. What would the Minister say?"

"Shut it," Ron snapped, aiming a kick at the bars of one of the cells.

The inhabitant just cackled to himself. "Children, children… you'll get your comeuppance, I know…"

As Ron growled, Harry grabbed onto his sleeve. "C'mon," he muttered in an undertone. "They do this every time."

Ron grumbled, but continued on, rather reluctantly.

A few minutes and they reached the wardroom. Hermione and Luna had finally reinstalled a ward-stone, made up of a mesh of some of the original wards, as well as some of the things they had found in the library. The ward-stone itself was a repurposed block from the top of the keep, originally part of the wall, that had fallen down at some stage and had been just a little too big for the holder. A few well-placed charms had fixed that. Upon one of the walls, there was a list of the different wards, written in Hermione's neat hand on a sheet of parchment. Too many wards, if Harry was honest; he had no clue when they would need some of them, if ever. Anti-Apparition and Anti-Disapparition, Anti-Portkey, Anti-Troll (apparently the bathroom incident hadn't left Hermione's mind), Anti-Giant, Muggle-Repelling, Anti-Fire, Anti-Flood. A ward that turned those who breached it into slugs, a ward that caused people to be thrown backwards, a ward that turned your toes inside out, a ward that caused nearby geese to swoop at the intruder, and a ward that caused intruders to glow in the dark.

The potions storeroom they came across on the first pass through was entirely looted by now. Neville had taken a cauldron up to his own room, apparently quite okay at potions, especially with Hermione's advice, when Snape wasn't in the room. There were a few other potions laboratories dotted around the dungeons, but none had been disassembled quite like the original room.

A minute more and the boys passed by another block of cells. Apparently, these hadn't been used in a long time, because the locks had all been rusted through. Worse, there was a skeleton in the corner of one, a few wisps of hair still present on the grinning skull. Harry didn't like to think about how the skeleton got there, or who it was from. The set of cells was useless, anyway, until they were cleaned up; the doors wouldn't hold up in the slightest.

On the right, after a minute or two longer, was the room full of spiders. Harry stuck his head in, while Ron stood at the other side of the corridor brandishing his torch like a sword.

"It's safe, you know," Harry said amusedly. "No spiders."

"Well," Ron said, "You never know. Luna says they hide under toilet seats in some countries, and, I mean, she says some weird things. But with spiders, you can't worry too much."

"Right," Harry grinned. "Come on, then, mate, into the cobwebby, spider-eggy –"

"Arse," Ron grumbled. "What's in there, anyway?"

"I don't know, we never got to explore," Harry replied. "You made us fumigate the place."

"Well, like I said…" Ron put his torch in a nearby bracket. "You go on, then."

"Alright, then," Harry said, and pushed the door fully open, stepping inside.

The room was indeed a little sticky with cobwebs, but nowhere near as bad as it had been originally. It was quite devoid of spiders, though, which made Ron breathe a sigh of relief. Harry wasn't scared of spiders, but he had to admit that is was nice not to have the little creatures crawling all over his feet. He glanced around, holding aloft his own torch. The room was paved with the same dark stone as the ward-room, ringed with cupboards and chests like the armoury. In the centre was a small table, made of a dull, unpolished table that made a solid, harsh sound when Ron knocked his hand against it. Scattered willy-nilly across the surface was a series of tools – saws, drills, hammers, tongs, and pocketknives, all red at the metal with age. There was a slight lingering acid smell, but Harry reckoned that was just the scent of their attempts at fumigating the place.

"That's a bit useless," Ron commented. "Unless you can un-rust the tools."

"Hermione probably could," Harry pointed out, "But these are so old there probably isn't any metal left underneath the rust – and Hermione keeps saying, if it's rusted through, it's irreparable."

"Great."

"We haven't checked the cupboards yet," Harry offered.

"I guess," Ron replied. "They'd better not try to eat me like the last set."

"At least we haven't found any robes that try to –" Harry stopped as the cupboard nearest to them rattled.

"Harry?" Ron asked.

"The cupboard just rattled. It's probably just a boggart, but best be careful," Harry muttered, stepping back before taking out his wand and pointing it at the cupboard. He mentally went through a checklist in his head. _Neutralize the dementor, then blow the boggart up._ "Ready?"

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Take it's legs off… yeah."

Harry pointed his wand squarely at the cupboard. "Alohomora!"

The cupboard popped open and sure enough, there it was… Ragged, dark robes, rotting flesh hanging limp from bony hands that reached out, freezing cold… Cold, rattling breaths that sucked the warmth from the room, from him…

"Expecto patronum!" Harry cried, thinking as hard as he could about the day he found out he was a wizard. Hagrid breaking down the door, Dudley's pig tail, realizing that he wasn't a freak…

Something was off, though, and though a mist shot out of his wand and hovered between himself and the dementor, there was no Prongs, no warmth, and the wood of his wand was still cold to the touch…

Voices, reaching out to him from the gloom…

_Not Harry, please, not Harry…_

_Lily, take Harry and go! I'll hold him off…_

He tried desperately to focus on something – his friends! They had pulled him out of it last summer, he could do this again… "Expecto patronum – riddikulus! Expecto patronum…"

More mist, and still no warmth… the boggart-banishing spell pushed the entity back a few feet, but nothing more. The wand felt oddly oversized between his fingers. Harry could feel the blood pounding in his head, hear laughter ringing in his ears… boisterous, boyish laughter…

"Mate!" Ron pushed Harry back into the wall, and in a flash the dementor was replaced by a massive spider, clicking its pincers menacingly for a few moments, before Ron set his jaw and snapped, "Ridikkulus!"

The boggart lost its legs, but did not vanish.

"Riddikulus!"

Ron tried again and the boggart shrank a little, now the size of a small dog, still without legs, but also still hairy and clicking its pincers and glaring, dripping venom onto the ground.

"Riddikulus!" This time both boys said the words together, and the two beams of light did the trick, making the boggart explode into wisps of smoke that dissipated, floating harmlessly up to the ceiling and vanishing into nothing.

Both boys stared at the boggart. "How pathetic have we gotten," Ron asked, "That we can't deal with a boggart?"

Harry swallowed, a slight lump in his throat. "I know. And I couldn't even produce a proper patronus… my wand felt all wrong, you know? Like I'd forgotten all about it."

"Yeah, me too…" Ron sighed. "It's like being in first year again."

Harry nodded. "I guess. Worse than first year."

"Well, we didn't really have wands before then," Ron pointed out. "I mean, didn't you feel all weird about it in first year? I always felt – awkward, you know?"

"I… guess…" Harry wracked his brains, but couldn't actually think of an instance when he'd felt like that. Unless, perhaps…

"It's not us," Harry whispered. "Not entirely, at least."

"Huh?" Ron asked, eloquent as always.

"What wand did you have in first year?" Harry asked.

Ron blinked, then brightened. "Right! I was using – just like now, not our own wand –" He deflated. "But, Harry, we can't get our old wands back."

"I know," Harry replied, slightly sadly. "But now we know what's wrong… I guess we just overpower everything. That should work, right?"

"I've always wanted to try to blow a castle to pieces," Ron said.

* * *

"That's the last stick," Ron commented. "I dunno about you mate, but this Lord of Azkaban was pretty obsessed with sticks. I mean, keeping them down here, in the dungeons…"

Harry nodded, looking at the pile the two boys had made on the floor. It went all the way up to Ron's knees. "Makes you wonder about the sanity of the guy, eh?"

"He made dementors," Ron pointed out. "He couldn't have been sane in the first place."

"True," Harry agreed. "Okay, last cupboard."

Like all the others, the final cupboard was made of plain, unadorned wood, and thankfully didn't rattle in the slightest as Harry approached it. They'd already destroyed three boggarts, and that was more than enough. Harry sighed and levelled his – the – wand at the cupboard door. "Alohomora."

The latch popped open and the door slowly opened, creaking on its hinges. As it did so, the contents of the cupboard spilled out onto the floor with a clatter, rolling off across the floor until bumping into walls or feet or the pile of sticks. Like the previous finds, these were long, spindly objects, varying from the height of a first-year to just over Harry's. Unlike the sticks, however, these glowed softly in the gloom of the dungeons, and had odd lumpy projections on top.

"What d'you think these are?" Harry asked, picking one up. "Obviously made of the sticks…"

"Dunno, mate," Ron replied, turning one around in his hand.

Harry felt the top. The stick glowed slightly brighter as his fingertips ran over hard, angular shapes. "There's some kind of crystal on top."

"You could use them for poking prisoners," Ron suggested.

"Why – why would you poke prisoners?" Harry asked.

Ron made a face. "Well, the ones down there are asking for it."

"Well, I suppose they are, a little," Harry conceded, "But I don't think that's what these are."

"Whatever they are, they're running off our magic," Ron mumbled, swinging his around like a bat.

"Oi!" Harry ducked. "Watch it! And what do you mean, they're running off our magic?"

"They light up when you touch them," Ron said, before adding, as Harry made a 'so what' face, "Bill reckons it's sometimes easier to have something run off your own magic than environmental magic, or some kind of store. It saves magical energy and means that whatever it is becomes harmless when muggles are around. How did you think a wand works?"

"I never really thought about it," Harry replied. "So, they're taking our magic…"

"Only a little," Ron said. "Maybe more than a wand, but not enough to be noticeable."

"Huh," Harry said, holding the crystalline tip up to eye level. "You think they do anything?"

"Probably," Ron replied. "Bit of a waste to just make them as pretty decorations, isn't it?"

"Right," Harry said vaguely. Seizing upon an idea, he started walking out of the room. "Where's the room full of rusty tools again?"

"Er… second on the left, I think," Ron said. "Why?"

"Grab a few more of those." Harry picked up a couple himself. "I want to test something."

Ron shrugged, picked up four sticks, and the two boys set off along the corridor to what must once have been some kind of magical blacksmiths. There was a wide table covered in various, horribly corroded tools, with a few anvils off to the side, cauldrons long dried of water, and a few shelves dotted around the walls. It would have been quite a nice little workshop in its time, but it was little more than a scrap heap now. A well-decorated scrap heap, but a scrap heap all the same.

"Stay in the doorway," Harry said, before Ron could step inside. "Let's see… _Wingardium Leviosa._ "

There was a noise like a whip-crack as the wood burned hot beneath Harry's hand. As he dropped it with a sharp yelp, the objects in the room were blasted in all directions – generally upwards, but also in various other ways, left, right, forwards, backwards, going into spins and bouncing against walls. There was little sense to their movements – they didn't spray out from a centre or follow a pattern.

"Whoa… you right there, mate?" Ron frowned as Harry blew slightly against his palm.

"Burned me," Harry grumbled. "You know how when you go to Ollivander's, the wood feels warm when you pick it up? Like that. But hotter."

"I'll have a go," Ron said. "See if it does anything different."

"Right." Harry picked the stick up off the ground and held it out. "You want this one?"

"I suppose." Ron took the stick, pointed it at the room, swished and flicked. " _Wingardium Leviosa._ "

This time, everything in the room, heavy anvils and half-vanished tools alike, lazily drifted up to the ceiling and stayed there, apparently trying to burrow through the stone.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Ron muttered, watching a shelf tapping against the roof.

"The wood?" Harry prompted.

"Cold." Ron held it out and Harry touched it. It was indeed frigid, much colder than it should have been. Ron scratched his nose. "I don't think it likes me."

"Well, it hates my guts," Harry replied idly. "Confirmed my theory, anyway. They're wands. Well. Mega-sized wands, anyway."

"Cool," Ron grinned. "Do we get to play with these too, then?"

"I guess. Maybe we'll find better matches too. They're not very accurate, though, did you see that?"

"Yeah, I only really meant to lift the table," Ron admitted. "Still, you can't say you've never wanted to be able to stun fifteen people at once."

"So long as none of them are our people," Harry said.

Ron nodded sagely. "Right. That would be rather awful."

"Prat," Harry snorted.

* * *

Harry and Ron were halfway back through the dungeons when they both heard a buzzing, humming noise. "Merlin," Ron groaned. "Not again…"

"Come on," Harry said, "We'd better get up to the cell levels and find the others."

They started to run, the chest in which they had stored the oversized wands jolting uncomfortably as their feet hit the stone floor. Left, right, right, straight on…

"Ah, here the miscreants come again!" someone yelled from the dungeon prisons.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, twisting back with his wand and hitting the unfortunate woman in the face.

"Silencio!" Ron added, causing another prisoner to cross his arms and scowl silently.

"Good one – oh, Merlin, I don't want to drag this up the stairs…" Harry sighed. "What – oh, damn it. Why are we wizards? _Locomotor chest._ "

"I feel like one of Snape's dunderheads now," Ron groused. "Come on, Hermione overextended the wards, bloody workaholic she is, we've still got a minute or two before they actually land on the island!"

"Right," Harry replied, holding his wand aloft so the chest followed the two of them as they ran up the stairs and out of the dungeons. "Which way now?"

"Courtyard, fastest way to get to most of the prison," Ron panted. "Look, see – OI! Nev!" He called out to the other boy, who was climbing down from the parapets. "What's going on?"

"More aurors than usual, they're finally inspecting the place," Neville called back. "Where's –"

"Here!" Ginny exploded out from the other side of the courtyard, dragging Hermione, who was still holding a book and was looking slightly frazzled. Luna trailed behind them, looking entirely spaced out as usual. "Inspection?"

"Yeah, they brought four or five – oh yeah, and Fudge, too. No Umbridge, though."

"Well, she's a bit of a wuss, isn't she," Ginny snorted. "Right, they're going to find out one way or another. Activate the wards?"

"Yes, okay," Hermione said, a little flustered. "Um, so the passcode to throw the full wards up – which one was it – _Anti-Umbridge League_."

"Um, Hermione? I thought you said that was for the main wards," Luna said.

"Oh, right, sorry, Luna. _One does not simply walk into Azkaban._ "

There was a sudden outburst of yelling and squawking coming from the edge of the island.

"They've landed," Ron observed.

"The geese worked! I knew the Nargles were right," Luna beamed.

"In case Hermione can't remember the password," Neville said, "I'm going back up to see if I have to skewer anyone, right?"

"No, it's fine… Oh – I've got it! _We tell no lies._ " Hermione glanced up and sure enough there was a sudden bang and some yelling from the beach. Judging by the few words that floated, comprehensible, into the prison, Dawlish and Robards were a little heavy, in Fudge's humble opinion.

"Good," Ginny said. "Now we don't have to worry about them for a while. What's in the box?"

"Really, really big wands," Ron answered.

"What?" Neville asked. "Why would there be really big wands in the dungeons? Why not in the armoury?"

"Dunno, but it was like they were being made down there. Watch out, they're not very precise and they're a little temperamental," Harry said, as Ron flung the lid open and pulled out a few.

"Ooh! Are those staffs?" Hermione squeaked.

"Whats?" Harry asked.

"You know, like Merlin always has in the storybooks?" Hermione bounced slightly.

"I thought that was his walking stick. If you were 200 years old you'd need one," Ginny snorted.

"Staffs… I think we had one at home," Neville murmured. "Gran forbade me from touching it. Said I'd blow up the room."

"Possible. We both tried levitation charms. Stuff levitated alright – everything in the room. Ron's tried to go through the roof, mine kind of went halfway. But also sideways and backwards and everything. Oh yeah, and that one –" Harry pointed to the oversized wand – staff – that he and Ron had tested, "—it burned my hand. See?"

"Mm, that does look a little painful," Luna mused.

"I say we research them more and see if we can use them," Hermione said.

"That's another thing," Ron piped up. "Our wands aren't properly matched. We thought maybe we might find a better match here. Just a thought, though, neither of us could one-shot a boggart anymore. Slightly terrifying, you know, when all of a sudden you can't just vanish your worst fear."

"I see…" Hermione drifted off into thought.

"Well, that's that," Ginny said cheerfully. "Anyone want to taunt the Ministry with a few hexes?" She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at the general irritated noise coming from the direction of the entrance. "They'll figure it's us in a while anyway."

"Merlin, yes," Neville said, grinning in a mildly disconcerting manner. "Count me in."

"Me too," Ron added.

"May as well," Harry agreed.

Luna took hold of Hermione's arm. "Hermione wants to come, her head's just buzzing with Wigglypuffles at the moment. Come on, let's go."

"Huh?" Hermione said.

"Ginny asked us all to taunt the Ministry by hexing them," Luna said. "We're going now."

Hermione blinked. "Oh."

"Come on, then," Neville said. "Can't keep the Minister waiting."

"As the daughter of a good Ministry employee, I can say I wouldn't dream of it," Ginny said haughtily.

"Coming, mate?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry took a breath and nodded. "Let's attack some Aurors."

**END OF PART ONE.**


	8. Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Arc 1 happened - and the Ministry 6 acquired Azkaban.  
> Now on to Arc 2...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is in the first chapter. I don't own the song, either. -> -> ->

"Oh my goodness!" Molly cried, as Tonks and Kingsley walked into Grimmauld Place's kitchen, where an Order meeting was just wrapping up. Both were covered in dirt, dust and ash, and both looked exhausted. Considering it had been three days since they last returned to Order Headquarters, you would have been forgiven for thinking they hadn't slept in that time; both had dark circles beneath their eyes and were slightly unsteady on their feet. "What happened to you?"

"Someone had the clever idea of performing a status check on the prisoners in Azkaban," Tonks grumbled. "Dawlish was hoping we'd find some dead bodies. Nearly ended up as one himself…"

"They've taken over the castle," Kingsley explained. "They reinstated the wards and were able to mount a competent defence by firing spells down at us."

"Not just spells," Tonks interjected, "Didn't Smythe get pegged with a crossbow bolt?"

"Yes, I believe so," Kingsley said gravely. "In any case, the first day when Aurors Tonks, Smythe, Robards, and Dawlish, and Minister Fudge went down to the island, they found wards springing up denying them entrance, and a number of teenagers attacking and taunting them."

"Taunting?" Fred asked eagerly.

"Your sister was yelling 'five points to x' every time one of us got hit by the time I arrived," Kingsley said with an impressive lack of inflection. "Then, Mister Longbottom got overly vindictive and decided it was ten points if you could hit the Minister, plus an extra five if you hit someone in the face. About a day later, Mister Potter introduced a rule in which you got three points every time someone was taken down as collateral. I'm not entirely sure what happened after that, because Miss Granger started adding on a number of very complicated rules, involving the size of explosions and the proximity of geese."

"Oh, good Merlin," McGonagall sighed, unsure as to whether she ought to be proud or entirely exasperated. Eventually, she decided they weren't mutually exclusive. She was beginning to do that a lot lately.

"Smythe got hit badly, and so did Dawlish. He's still got goose down in his hair," Tonks sighed. "Robards is actually competent, so he was able to dodge most of the onslaught, although he probably made it easier on himself by not immediately going nuts and attacking the wards. They hit me too, you know."

"Cornelius called for reinforcements and attempted to siege the castle with only six aurors," Kingsley said. "Jugson and I were the reinforcement team. We couldn't get in – how could we? None of us is experienced in ward-breaking and we were at equal numbers and at a disadvantage. I was given the job of protecting the Minister from stray spells and geese."

"What's all this about geese?" George asked.

"There appears to be a ward that attracts geese to the area and causes them to attack anyone within a certain area," Kingsley explained.

"Interesting…" the troublemaker commented. "I wonder if they'd send us the configuration."

"What are we going to do now?" Hestia Jones, who usually spend the meeting listening silently and trying to ignore Dedalus Diggle, spoke up. "We're halfway through the holidays and the Ministry still hasn't publicised this. They were doing this to appear to be doing something, so why aren't there any news articles, and how are we meant to deal with this new development? The students will notice if they're missing at the beginning of the school year, and they will ask questions, especially their secret defence organization. The Ministry won't let up now, especially since they've essentially commandeered a piece of Ministerial Infrastructure and are denying entrance."

This was the longest Hestia had ever spoken to anyone in living memory, and so the kitchen was silent for a bit before everyone realised, they did indeed have voices. "She brings a good point," Arthur sighed. "The ministry is intensely against them as of now, and yet they've done nothing to sway public opinion. Something is going on and I do not like it. Those are my children in there."

"Well, the brats have made the move now," Snape said. "All we can do is continue sending those blasted letters and hope they don't do anything stupid. Personally, I see Azkaban prison as a gain for the Order. The place is full of dark and arcane magic. If the Dark Lord would focus on something other than his ancestor, he would have taken the prison long ago."

"What if they get hurt?" Molly worried.

"I would hope that after five years of instruction they aren't foolish enough to harm themselves, though Longbottom and Lovegood both leave much to be desired," Snape growled.

"Constant vigilance," Moody commented.

"Severus is right," Lupin said, to general surprise. "They, and by extension we, have access to everything the castle has to offer. It'd be remiss to assume the Ministry won't do anything about it, though, so they'd better have some kind of plan going forward. Holding a fort against six Aurors is one thing, but against curse breakers or You-Know-Who's forces is quite another."

"Cornelius is in denial," Kingsley said. "As are his aides."

"Umbridge, though, she's gone nuts," Tonks sighed. "She won't stop screaming at everyone. It's almost completely unbearable."

"We need to figure out some plans for going forward," Kingsley concluded. "We're currently in an advantageous position, but this certainly won't last forever."

"I quite agree," Dumbledore finally said. "You are right, dear Kingsley, our position is a precarious one, and we are squeezed by both sides. Senior Order Members, we will attempt to devise a plan to avert our problems with regards to Lord Voldemort. New Order Members, you will attempt to devise a plan to avert our problems with the Ministry. Messrs. Weasley and Weasley, and Miss Tonks, I want you to focus specifically on the Azkaban situation. We cannot afford to let this advantage slip."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the Order, a similar conversation was occurring around the dining room table within Azkaban Fortress. The teenagers were just as exhausted as the Aurors, and unlike their Ministerial counterparts, they were already thinking far ahead, mostly courtesy of their two resident nerd girls.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but after living off uncooked sprouts for three days, I missed fried purple whatever-this-meat-is," Neville said, spearing a carrot with his knife. "You and Ginny did a good job."

"Can't say the Dursleys did me no good," Harry replied. "Pass the salt, Hermione? So, Fudge and his cronies have finally left, now what?"

"I feel bad for Tonks and Kingsley, honestly," Ginny said. "We had to hit them a bit, or it'd be very suspicious, but still."

"Well, considering they're probably still digging the bolt out of Smythe's shoulder, I think a few basic jinxes were fine," Ron said dryly. "I don't know what you guys think, but Neville, mate, you got vicious."

"The barbs were Luna's idea!" Neville protested.

"For arrows," Hermione said. "And she wanted them barbed so they could deliver potions efficiently."

"I just adapted the idea," Neville sighed.

"They'll be back. It's quite foolish of them, but they will be," Luna said to the air two feet beneath the rusty chandelier.

"You're right, Luna," Hermione sighed. "They'll probably bring a curse breaker with them next time."

"'Mione, you forget we're talking about the Ministry," Ron pointed out.

"Okay," Hermione corrected herself, "Within the next five attempts they'll probably bring a curse breaker along."

"I'm more worried about Voldemort – oh, stop it," Harry grumbled, as Ron knocked the pepper shaker over. "How long will it take to knock down the wards we have?"

"We used a combination of the castle's original ward structure and the wards we found, but the crack in the original stone significantly weakened the ward matrix," Hermione sighed. "I'd say, from what I've read in books and what Bill says, we're looking at about an hour for the battle wards and a further half hour for the central wards. The outer wards are quite weak, so they could probably be removed in five minutes or less, since they're only meant as an alarm and a hindrance."

"If they have any sense, they'll be back with curse-breakers and better numbers," Ginny said. "We have a problem if they break through the wards. Do you think any of you could meet an Auror in one-on-one combat without the wards protecting you?"

There was a general murmur in the negative. "We're all getting better," Harry said, "But not that much better."

"Plus, Aurors are all built for one-on-one or many-on-one battle, whereas we're more varied," Ron said. "It's like having an army of rooks and maybe a queen or two up against a mix of rooks, bishops, and knights."

"What?" Neville said.

"So, think of rooks like straight-up fighters, like an Auror. Maybe some of them are skilled in more complex combat, that's queens, and unconventional combat is bishops. Like Luna, I guess, with that goose idea. Knights are the ones who jump in and out of combat, shielding, replenishing supplies, healing, and attacking in an indirect manner."

"That was weirdly deep," Ginny commented.

"Whichever way you look at it," Hermione concluded, "We're low on one key resource – people."

"We can't exactly get more people into here," Harry pointed out. "The Ministry knows we're here."

"Maybe not directly," Luna said thoughtfully. "But there's an easy way to group up our allies."

"What's that?" Neville asked.

Luna reached beneath her collar and tugged out a length of blue ribbon. Dangling at the end, the ribbon threaded through a hole punched through Fudge's unfortunate nose, was a sparkling gold galleon with the number 11021996 written around the edge.

Hermione's forehead hit the table next to her plate as Ron blinked. "How long have you been wearing that?"

Harry sighed. "Luna?'

"Yes, Harry?" Luna replied innocently.

"I've thought long and hard, and I think we'll keep you. Congratulations."

Ginny giggled. "What about the geese?"

"Eh, maybe not the geese…"

"Sorry, guys," Luna sighed. "I'm afraid we won't reach a deal if we don't keep the geese."

* * *

_Dear Grandpa Brian,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that Scotland Fried Phoenix is progressing splendidly. We're having a lovely time and have outfitted Azkaban prison to be more comfortable. It's rather lovely, if a little grey, but I intend to fix that with some paint._

_I'm afraid the Ministry does not quite agree with our changes and, three days ago, decided to lay siege to us. Don't worry; they left not long ago._

_No word on the Heliopaths yet, although the Nargles tell me the Ministry may be hiding them. I wonder where – I certainly never saw them in the Department of Mysteries. I hope Lord Voldemort doesn't get a hold of them, or he me force the country to declare asparagus as their saviour. I do not like asparagus very much, so you understand that this might concern me._

_Love,_

_Luna_

_P.S. By the way, I think I know where you might find some baby phoenixes. They're very attached to gold, see, because it's like their feathers. Perhaps Professor McGonagall might find some in her common room?_

Hermione tapped Hedwig on the beak and Harry experimentally tossed a small pebble at the owl. It bounced off and Hedwig regarded him with a superior air. Hermione shot a basic jinx at the owl, and it also bounced off, leaving a scorch mark on the table.

"Perfect," Luna said dreamily. "Now the Heliopaths and Wrackspurts won't get to her."

"Hoot," Hedwig said, hopping from one foot to another in a dignified manner.

"Brilliant, Hermione, Luna," Harry said. "Okay, Hedwig, drop that off to the Order, okay?"

"Hoot," Hedwig replied, before spreading her wings and taking off out the window into the sky.

At the back of the room, Ron, Ginny and Neville finished planning their messages to the rest of the DA.

"This is quite a lot for them to write down," Neville commented. "Are you sure it's not too much for them to take in over the holidays?"

"Over the holidays?" Ron asked. "This is just the first day's messages."

Neville blinked.

"Great," Ginny groaned. "You've broken his brain."

"This is revenge for the spiders," Ron replied.

Ginny rolled her eyes and tapped the Galleon.

* * *

Across England, Scotland, Wales, and a small-ish part of Ireland, false Galleons began burning hot. Considering it was summer, this was frankly an ordinary thing to happen when loose change was left out in the sun, but most of the DA was a little more observant than that and picked up their Galleons to check out what was going on.

 _Messages Coming, Quill_ read the letters around the rim of the Galleon, and there was a sudden coordinated flurry of parchment and pens around Wizarding Britain and that small bit of Ireland as teenagers scrambled for something to write with. It would have been rather eerie had anyone paid attention to it, but, as Molly Weasley sighed to her husband as George nearly fell down the stairs clutching a coin and a paintbrush, teenagers could be quite strange.

 _In Azkaban, Fudge Did_ appeared next, and there was a simultaneous series of gasps and cries of outrage. Mrs Bones stared as her daughter half-screamed and threw a quill rather violently to the parchment she was writing on, a marked change to the apathy that had recently plagued the household since Madam Bones's death.

 _Took Over, Got Wands_ was the third message, which resulted in a few quiet cheers and whistles as the message was copied down. Colin and Dennis Creevey, who had been markedly more anxious over the holidays, started bouncing up and down in their seats, prompting some general confusion from their parents. This confusion only increased when Colin retrieved the lolly-jar, Dennis grabbed the juice, and they held a toast to the Boy-Who-Lived and the Ministry Six.

 _Voldemort At Large_ triggered a general murmur of acceptance, with few people overly surprised by this point. They all knew there had been some sort of fight at the end of the year, and that Harry Potter and his friends had been taken away to the Ministry afterwards, and Voldemort escaping was by that point the most obvious outcome. No-one was deluded enough to think a few fifth years could face Voldemort alone, no matter how skilled they were. Terry Boot frowned and started wondering aloud what kind of a strategy the wizarding world was actually applying, leaving his relatives to try to decipher what 'strategic obfuscation' actually was.

 _Ministry Tried Off Us_ was met with exclamations of shock, after the teens figured out the shoddy grammar. Justin Finch-Fletchely frowned to himself and resolved to write immediately to the rest of his house. If the Ministry was going to play dirty, there simply wasn't any hope for Britain. His father was left wondering why Justin was so outraged over sports match cheating, and just how exactly it was going to ruin their country.

 _Fort Warded, Safe Now_ was met with sighs of relief. On holiday in India, the Patil twins shared a look. If their country's history had taught them anything, it was that conquerors would stop at nothing to take over lesser nations, including consorting with the enemy. They fervently hoped it wouldn't come to that. For now, though, it was time to ask Grandpa for a whole lot of advice. He had, after all, seen his fair share of general unrest. Colonialism didn't just muck up Muggle power structures, and wizards were quite bad at fixing things quickly.

 _Sieged 3 Days, Won_ was also met with a positive outlook. Michael Corner hi-fived his girlfriend Cho Chang. Sure, neither of them was in the best place with some of the people currently in trouble, but this ran a whole lot deeper than that and neither was dumb enough to let a grudge get in the way. They were Ravenclaws, after all. Knowing they were able to hold a fort would also come in handy in case Death Eaters ever besieged Hogwarts – assuming they would find their way back.

 _If Not Back, Chaos_ made a few people sigh and a few people cheer. There was an ominous feeling that swept across the Professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that could be traced directly back to this occurrence. Not that they knew anything, but there was a certain feeling induced in quite a wide radius when Weasley twin cackling came into contact with Ravenclaws plotting, Hufflepuffs frantically communicating, and Lavender Brown deciding it was indeed time to get her hands dirty. Or maybe find a good, strong, preferably fashionable pair of gloves.

 _DA Reforming Await_ and _Dumbledore Via McGonagall_ came together as a pair, one after the other, and there was a monumental cheer, this time loud and in earnest. A number of parents and siblings jumped and stared, and multiple couples kissed each other. A few people who weren't couples kissed each other as well, which led to general confusion, awkward muttering, and a lot of giggling. Seamus Finnigan, who was in all honesty probably already drunk, considering the fact nobody had bothered to lock the liquor cabinet, jumped off Dean, who was surprisingly red for someone whose ancestors had originated squarely in the epicentre of burn-your-face-off sunshine, pinched a bottle of firewhiskey, and declared that today was a good day to owl, or maybe visit, their transfiguration teacher.

* * *

"Do you think she sound saner this time?" Umbridge asked slowly, reading through the letter she had pinched.

"I don't know, and I really don't care at this point, Dolores!" Fudge barked. The two of them were hiding under a desk, having realised, along with the rest of the office staff, that attempting to hex an owl who was shielded and had an Imperturbable charm on itself was a bad idea. Said owl was rocketing around the office like it was a pinball machine, hooting loudly and turning the air into a blizzard of parchment sheets, complete with flying splashes of ink as melted snow.

"One of these days, we'll get them, Cornelius," Umbridge said, equally to herself as him. "I will think of a plan."

"I certainly hope so," Fudge sighed, as Hedwig broke her third window in an explosion of glass. "I certainly hope so."

Ack.

George stood up at the table and began to read Luna's letter aloud, Fred, Tonks, and Lupin looking over his shoulder just in case Luna decided to pull something really wacky and George couldn't translate alone.

" _Dear Dumbledore_

 _I hope this letter finds you well, and that the Order is getting on well. We've taken over Azkaban prison, and I plan to make some alterations_ –"

"Do you think she'll actually paint the stones?" Fred interrupted. "I mean, Gin Gin says she painted the ceiling of her bedroom."

"Dunno. _I'm afraid the Ministry didn't like us taking over their prison and laid siege for three days._

 _The news doesn't seem to have been spread, so I've come to the conclusion the Ministry was trying this as a cover-up, Ensure Voldemort does''t control the press or he might –_ force the country to declare asparagus as their saviour. What… I do not like asparagus very much – what the flipping Merlin –"

"Language, George," Molly said sharply.

"Asparagus?" Fred asked incredulously. "What's that meant to mean?"

"Whatever it is, it's something Voldemort would force the media to perpetuate so the population would accept it," Lupin said.

"Big words," George commented.

"Maybe it's nothing in particular," Tonks suggested. "Like, a metaphor for false reporting or controlling the press."

"Plausible, but really weird," Fred decided.

"Keep going," Kingsley said. "Did Miss Lovegood write anything else?"

George frowned, then grinned. "Just this.

_Love, Luna._

_P.S. By the way, have some recruits. They use Galleons as a communication device and we're sending them to you via Professor McGonagall._ "

Professor Dumbledore blinked in surprise. "Is that how your DA communicated? Ingenious."

"Yes, well, if you don't mind, we were just recruited into a second army of chaos and we have semi-dangerous supplies to create." Fred jumped to his feet.

"Indeed. We shall take our leave, good sirs and madams," George intoned, placing the letter on the table before the two dashed from the room and immediately started laughing in a frankly maniacal manner.

At the same time, the kitchen door opened and Professors McGonagall and Snape stepped into the room.

"What have you let them do?" Snape demanded, hearing the Weasley twins' attempt at impersonating agents of Hell.

"And does it have anything to do with the twelve letters I just received pledging allegiance to Dumbledore's Army?" McGonagall asked. "There's also a thirteenth from Mister Finnigan, but it's a little – crispy."

Dumbledore happily twinkled. Snape groaned. "I need a drink."


	9. And Now For Something Completely Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Arc 1 happened - and the Ministry 6 acquired Azkaban.  
> Our Azkabanians taunted some Aurors and recruited some teenagers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is in the first chapter. Vamanos!  
> (What's an accent? No clue. Accents aren't present in Dora the Explorer)

"Crucio," the high voice hissed, and the gathered Death Eaters all looked away or flinched as discretely as they could. The Dark Lord was displeased, judging by the twisted snarl on his snakelike features, and few were fool enough to antagonize him, especially when faced with the sight of the once-strong body convulsing on the marble floor. It was only ten minutes since their meeting had begun and the newer recruits were already beginning to fervently regret their attendance. It wasn't uncommon for newly christened Death Eaters to suffer from nightmares throughout their first year of service – if they lasted that long. Faced with the Dark Lord's fury, many did not.

"Fool," Voldemort growled, lifting the curse momentarily. "You did not think to check the cells?"

Jugson lifted himself slightly off the cold stone on shaking arms. "My – my Lord – we were told to stay away – to let the common criminals take care of the job –"

"Crucio!" Voldemort snapped, and the unfortunate Death Eater collapsed back down with a scream as his arms gave way. "I am your Lord, Jugson, not the Ministry… or might you have turned your back?"

"N-no," Jugson gasped. "N-never, my L-Lord."

"Good," Voldemort hissed. "You will not fail me again."

"N-no, my L-Lord, I will n-not."

The Dark Lord reclined back in his chair once more. "Return to your place."

"Y-yes, my L-Lord… y-you are merciful, thank y-you…" The Death Eater scrambled forward, kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes, then scurried back to his place, knees knocking slightly as he stood.

The Dark Lord looked around his troops as they stood assembled before him. Inner Circle meetings usually took place in the dining room over the Malfoy family's dining table, but when he needed to take stock of all his followers, the entrance hall was much more effective. The room was more often than not frigid and dark, for the heating systems were blocked off by the Voldemort's throne and the room was not meant to be used at night, and his followers were forced to stand to attention. It instilled fear, especially in the younger, more mouldable recruits. Looking around, he picked out his next target. "Mulciber… Avery… your mission?"

The two Death Eaters stepped forward. "My Lord," Avery began, "We have attempted to contact the Gorgons…"

"Attempted?" Voldemort asked silkily.

"Yes, my Lord. We sent multiple envoys, but none have returned," Mulciber replied, already twitching somewhat. "My Lord, we beg your –"

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord snarled, and two more Death Eaters collapsed to the ground in agony. "When you are given a task, you are to complete it!" the Dark Lord continued, ignoring the steadily rising howls and slight knocking of bones against stone coming from the ground.

Standing at the back, Snape schooled his features into an oft-practiced mask of impassiveness. He glanced around him; Cassius Warrington was the colour of porridge with glazed eyes while Winton Parkinson looked like he might be sick. Lucius Malfoy looked similarly green, though less so – more prominent was a constant greyish tint that had been plaguing him since the incident at the Department of Mysteries. Dolohov was sneering. The Death Eater had nothing to fear – his purpose was to dispose of errant creatures, which he did with impunity, placing him easily in the Dark Lord's favour. Bellatrix was cackling madly, eyes wide and dancing, but that wasn't unusual. Even the woman's sister quietly agreed she was at least partially insane. Snape let his eyes drift back to the front. Lord Voldemort was particularly touchy today, and he steeled himself. Despite being trusted, the life of a spy was often one marked by red curses coming at you, and he fervently hoped Lord Voldemort would not identify that Snape might have told him the Boy Who Lived was alive the entire time.

Far away in Azkaban Prison, the subject of the Dark Lord's most vicious hatred awoke with a jolt and a yell, falling off the mattress onto the cold floor below.

* * *

 _Voldemort Knows Alive_ and _He Isn't Pleased_ were the messages of the day for Dumbledore's Army, or the Order of the Slightly Less Impressive Flaming Chicken Covered in Gasoline, as Fred had taken to calling it. Nobody was entirely sure how Fred had managed to commandeer the seat of leader, Fred and George included, but it had something to do with red paint, falling down the stairs, five owls, and mashed potato. In any case, one of the unidentifiable Weasley Twins was in charge of a small legion of teenagers loyal more only to Harry, and possibly Dumbledore. If this was bad for the DA, it was certainly much worse for the Ministry, and if it was good for the DA, it was absolutely terrible for the Ministry.

It only took Fred and George working together two days to replicate Hermione's galleons, though they used sickles they had transfigured out of sliced turnip, much to Mrs Weasley's consternation and McGonagall's mixed irritation and pride. The sickles, like the galleons, changed when a message came through; to distinguish the two, though, George chose to apply a cooling charm rather than a heating charm. They then stuffed the sickles into empty Skiving Snackbox containers, Edible Dark Mark wrappers, and half-full boxes of Puffskein pellets. To the Ministry, the deliveries would appear benign, while the DA would promptly become confused or curious and discover the new devices.

There was one more critical point to the sickles that Hermione had never needed to engineer into the Galleons; they worked two ways. Anyone could change the text, and a failsafe digit on the edge prevented the message being overwritten before everyone had seen it. They could also blank out the words to appear as a serial number and switch it back to letters while still preserving the message, allowing anyone to stop the coins falling into enemy hands. Fred was inordinately pleased with himself, as was Lavender, who declined to shut up for twelve messages straight.

When the twins woke up to their Galleons burning, they copied down the message, pulled out their sickles, and watched for a while as messages were exchanged back and forth. There was no way of identifying the writer, but they could take guesses. Either Hannah or Lavender found this news terrifying; Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Padma Patil or Su Li suggested, over four messages, a focus on offensive magic in future meetings. Susan Bones seemed to think this had all happened at an awfully suspicious time. Seamus was all for tracking down a Death Eater house and launching a counterstrike. Colin or Dennis Creevey suggested sending the Azkaban residents care packages.

By the time the twins decided it was about time they went down to breakfast, their fingers were numb with cold and they had the record of over forty messages scribbled into a notebook, secreted away under the bed and protected by a number of charms. Arriving in the kitchen, they had barely begun to regain feeling in their digits when Snape stumbled in, followed by Dumbledore, who was looking grave, and their mother, who in the absence of 2/3/4/6 of her children, had taken to mothering everyone, even the greasy-haired ill-tempered potions master. Somehow, yesterday, she had convinced Remus to eat two helpings and Dumbledore that broccoli was essential for old people, so it wasn't exactly the strangest thing that had happened.

"He knows," Snape rasped, sitting clumsily down in a chair and helping himself to an oversized cup of coffee. Kingsley blinked but remained impassive; Tonks choked on her Cheeri-Owls.

"It is indeed a setback," Dumbledore said quietly, "But an inevitable one nonetheless."

"He wasn't happy with you," Remus observed, as Snape nearly knocked over the honeypot.

"The Dark Lord wished to know why I had not received information with regards to the boy's survival," Snape said, already halfway through his coffee and still shaking violently. "He was… displeased at my lack of intelligence."

Molly bustled over with a potion, set it on the table next to the potions master, and got to work frying a new lot of eggs, sipping a mug of tea as she did so. Snape took the potion with a slightly acknowledgement and tipped it into his coffee. It didn't seem to stop the shakes, but he looked slightly less corpselike afterwards and more like his normal, sallow self – not that he ordinarily looked particularly healthy.

"What are we going to do now, then?" Kingsley asked. "You-Know-Who may well go after Azkaban – or he may attempt to attack us in Harry's absence. We could barely afford to split our forces before. People are dying – Amelia Bones was murdered not long ago, not that it was mentioned in the paper."

"Kingsley is right," Arthur said lowly. "The worst thing we can do is allow ourselves to enter into the same situation as we had in the First War – when the Death Eaters picked the Order apart piece by piece."

Dedalus Diggle, who was far too much of a morning person, spoke up. "We must have courage! We can get through this. The light will prevail."

"Leave distracting the Ministry to us. It's not like they can get much worse, unless You-Know-Who takes over," Fred said decisively, though the effect was ruined somewhat as he spoke through a mouthful of toast and sausage. "Enough of the Army is of age to work a semi-bureaucratic front and the rest can be sufficiently troublesome with no problem."

George nodded in agreement, scribbling a message off his and Fred's sickles on his arm with a ballpoint pent Hermione had left behind on her last visit.

"Are you sure? We know the Ministry isn't afraid to play dirty," Tonks warned.

Fred shrugged slightly sadly. "Nobody suspects the troublemakers. They think we're painful, but incompetent."

"Idiots," George commented, stuffing a forkful of beans into his mouth.

"I don't suppose you could be convinced out of it?" Dumbledore asked, smiling slightly as the twins shook their heads. "I suspected as such."

"What's our next move?" Dedalus asked.

"I don't know about you, Diggle," Snape grumbled, "But I'm going to sleep."

* * *

If anything about the last hour or so was to impress Harry, it would be the fact that the staff Neville was currently wielding worked remarkably like a bazooka. Every spell used up a lot of power, every spell caused a lot of carnage below, and every use led to enough knockback to send his fellow Gryffindor flying six feet backwards onto the stone. After the fourth time, Hermione decided to cushion the floor, and it was rather amusing watching Neville get thrown back, only to bounce slightly, get back up, and peep over the walls at the chaos in the courtyard.

As Ron had predicted, the Ministry hadn't yet had the sense to bring along a set of curse breakers, and instead had doubled the number of Aurors on the job – this set contained Jugson, Dawlish, Smithers, Crawley, Helmsford, Urquhart, Rashid, and Coleman. The Minister had stepped out of the boat with a pleased expression on his face, as if he had already won. The Ministry 6, of course, had noted the boat's presence long before it reached the dock, especially considering Harry had a rather loud shriek on him, and were waiting with weapons and snacks when the Aurors started towards the doors.

An hour later, Dawlish had been out cold for twenty minutes, Fudge's legs were made of stone and he had sprouted goat's horns, and Coleman was being violently attacked by a mixture of ward-conjured geese and Hermione-conjured murder-canaries. Urquhart, Helmsford, and Rashid had all been out and back up again at least twelve times; Helmsford was sporting half-a-dozen new scars from cuts he'd had to heal on the go and Rashid had a cracked rib. Jugson, who hadn't been quite right from the start, had done something to his right hand and was apparently both exceedingly nauseous and unable to use his left hand, and Smithers was hiding in the water up to his nose, firing the occasional spell but otherwise mostly occupied with staying intact. Only Crawley was still up and firing at the same rate as he had in the beginning. Ginny thought he was a demon.

Luna picked up a carrot out of the snack basket, waved her wand over it, and threw it into the courtyard, before flicking her wand in the general direction, sending a shower of oil drops onto the paving. "Do you think they'll be here fore much longer? I need to read a book."

"Staying would be daft," Ron observed. "Stupefy!" The jet of light just missed, skimming past Fudge's ear and hitting the ground. Ron frowned and tried again; this time he aimed true and Fudge keeled over, stone legs still sticking out in their bent position.

"10.7 points to Ron," Hermione sang out, causing the Aurors to scowl as she sent a long-distance banishing charm at Jugson via a thoroughly ill-matched staff. While she dropped the long piece of wood, applied a healing charm to her palms with a wand for the thirty-fourth time that day, and picked it up again, the spell reacted spectacularly, honing in on the Auror and sending him flying seventeen feet into the air and into the water beside Smithers. "So they'll do it."

"Somehow, I don't think they'll be here for a whole three days," Harry said dryly, nodding towards Ginny as he rapid-fired random spells over the walls. The girl in question had just finished taking a fried potato break and was now marching up to the edge of the parapets. Beside her, Neville blinked as a curse, fired from Crawley's wand, fizzed out seven yards away.

"Ooh," Hermione commented, adjusting her staff delicately and causing her attack birds to aim for Crawley instead. "Five – no, twelve and a half points to Harry."

"Bombarda," Neville said flatly, aiming his staff over the wall and awarding Helmsford an injury to match Rashid's. "Doesn't this feel, I don't know, a little flat?"

"Too much of a good thing," Harry said sagely.

"Confringo! Furnunculus! Gelata pedes!" Ginny bellowed, blowing up a stone right next to Coleman's foot and causing Smithers to squeak as, while he was unable to move in the water, the latter two spells impacted head-on and tiny tentacles sprouted up all over his face.

"Ginny doesn't think so," Ron commented.

"17.28 to Ginny," Hermione trilled, placing her wand at her throat and amplifying her voice for the benefit of the Aurors as Crawley once again tried to hit Neville and then the door.

"THE CARROT WAS A LIE!" Crawley yelled; Luna's carrot has just exploded in a shower of something clear that proceeded to attempt to eat through the Auror's hair, skin, clothes, and shoes. Dawlish, who had just begun to come around, was hit by a flying piece of carrot and, in the absurdity of it all, his brain decided enough was enough and he promptly fainted again.

"Oh, come on," Hermione sighed. "How am I meant to score that?"

* * *

_Dear Minister_

_Really? You tried again? Quit trying to kill us! That's Voldemort's job._

_Stuff you._

_Love, Harry_

_Dear Undersecretary_

_I'd love to say you're doing an amazing job, but I must not tell lies, so…_

_Fuck you._

_Love (not really, please drop dead), Harry_

_XO (These are not hugs and kisses, these are targets for people to aim at on your face)_

"Minister," Percy said cautiously, as a gopher brought Fudge a hot foot-bath and a cup of 'tea' that was probably at least 10% firewhiskey, "I think the Lovegood insanity might be contagious."

Fudge, who was gazing suspiciously at the owl hovering placidly in the air over at the far corner of the room, waved a hand impatiently. "You say this why, Weatherby?"

"Well," Percy said, "Shall I read you Potter's letter?"

"Go on," the Minister said wearily.

Percy cleared his throat and read it out, substituting 'Voldemort' for 'You-Know-Who'.

Fudge groaned and dropped his head backwards onto the back of the chair as Umbridge bustled into the room excitedly. "Did you catch them, Cornelius?"

"No," Fudge groaned. "Dawlish is still out cold and my feet were made of stone for three-quarters of an hour."

Umbridge turned rather red. "Those awful, awful… beasts!"

Considering Umbridge's views on what constituted a beast, this was either a terrible insult or a comparison between Hermione and Einstein.

"Potter sent you a letter," Percy said meekly, holding out a sheet of paper. "He also sent one to the Minister and… er… a brussels sprout."

Umbridge snatched up the letter and read it, eyes bulging more and more as she progressed down the page. "Why… that…"

"Hoot," Hedwig said warningly, reminding everyone of her presence, not that the apprehensive clerks sitting around her needed to be.

"Right," Umbridge snarled, burning her letter with an angry jab of her wand and causing a shower of burning embers to fall onto the carpet, "That's it. We will tell the Aurors to aim to kill and not capture this time around."

"Hoot!" Hedwig shrieked angrily, just as the Brussels Sprout exploded in a cloud of gas. Garrotting Gas, if the sudden quantity of people slumping over was anything to go by. Hedwig herself was protected by a number of charms – a gas filtration charm, an anti-capture charm, a mail-ward-penetration charm, and the all-important impervious and shield charms.

As the final ministry employee slumped over, Hedwig sighed to herself in her owlish mind. She had tried her best. With a soft, determined hoot, Hedwig dove straight for a large stack of papers.

So began what would be known in the official forms as Ministerial Incident 1853.7B – Owl Pinball Episode 2.

* * *

By the time the Garrotting gas dispersed, two and a half minutes later, Hedwig was quite done with her work – her work at the Ministerial office, that is. There were still two sprouts for her to deliver – one to the Auror office and one to the Wizengamot, and she fully intended to complete her duty. And perhaps pick some pockets along the way. Hedwig couldn't count past 6, the number of years she had spent with her boy, but she did know that with enough shiny metal things she could have enough bacon to last herself weeks. Maybe some for her boy too, if he asked nicely…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't give anyone Mood Whiplash, did I?  
> I made the Garrotting gas only last for two and a half minutes because the Garrotte is a method of strangulation and mercilessly killing off half the Ministry is, at this point, not plot effective (sure, if they could, but I'm the author and I say the story needs to be longer than 20k words, thank you very much).


	10. The Insanity Sets In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Arc 1 happened - and the Ministry 6 acquired Azkaban.  
> Our Azkabanians taunted some Aurors and recruited some teenagers.  
> Hedwig and the 6 destroyed the Ministry once again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. :(

"Where did this bacon come from?" Hermione asked.

"Hoot," Hedwig told them smugly.

"Harry," Hermione said severely, "Have you been training Hedwig to pick pockets?"

"No, just to dive-bomb politicians," Harry said absently.

Luna, who was taking up half the dinner table with a large ward diagram, glanced up for a moment. "Clever owl. Hermione, do you think I might be able to alter this ward to create a flame ring if we substitute this here…"

"Hmm. But if you don't complete the double loop…" Hermione trailed off.

Harry shook his head. The girls were perpetually working on the wards these days. Exploration had basically stagnated in the castle, with a number of strange objects found (including a whole 17 bottles of dementor essence) and no explanation for any of them. Ron was currently working on fine-tuning a staff for Neville, since the once-shy boy seemed to think a huge murder-stick was exactly his thing. In any case, Hermione said it was useful to have a 'tank' on the team. Ginny was always training or helping Neville turn the battlements into horrific death traps. Harry was drawn to the dementor essence, but Luna had quite firmly told him he was definitely not going to open the bottles if he valued his life, among other things.

The castle seemed to have fallen into a sort of sleep, even after only a couple of days, with Aurors consistently coming for a while, attempting murder, and leaving. Ron was taking bets on how long it would take before they brought some curse breakers, Bill turned up, and things got awkward. Despite the daily assassination attempts, the castle seemed empty of substance.

* * *

Meanwhile in Dover, Fred, George, Seamus, Dean, Cho, Michael, and Susan were sitting on a picnic blanket eating a nicely mixed lunch. All were wearing the Weasley twins' newest invention, the Bodyless Bonnet. Unlike the Headless Hat, the Bodyless Bonnet was not available in stores as it functioned like an invisibility cloak for everything but your feet. At present, anyone walking by would have seen a heap of shoes on a picnic blanket and a picnic lunch eating itself. The Bonnets were, by Fred's own admission, fairly useless in a real fight or sneaking into Voldemort's house, but perfectly okay for being inconspicuous or sneaking into a lesser man's house.

"You know," Dean said, grabbing a ham sandwich, "If you swim out there for long enough, you'll reach France."

"That makes here a bit of a Death Eater bridge, then, doesn't it? If they aren't using Portkeys, I mean," Susan mused.

"Pass the gravy – now if we secured this area – thanks, Seamus – we could move people in and out of the country as much as we wanted," Michael commented.

"Oh, yes, and we could set up a terminal at either side for quick escapes to different parts of Britain and France!" Cho said excitedly.

"Nobody used their wands, right?" George asked suddenly.

"No, Fred," Dean sighed.

"I'm George."

"No, Gred."

"Horrible sense of vision aside," Fred said thoughfully, "Michael and Cho are right. This is an asset we could use."

"And apparently the Death Eaters figured that out too," Michael agreed.

"Well," Seamus said, with an audible grin, "It's a good thing we just burned Urquhart Cottage to the ground, then, isn't it?"

Almost as one, not that anyone could see it, they all turned to look at the reason for their being there. A small, white-walled cottage with a large garden around it was slowly burning to the ground, tongues of flame leaping up from the roof and illuminating the morning sky as smoke billowed from the inside, forming a massive cloud in the sky.

"I love gasoline," Dean said cheerfully. "Who knew wizarding fire-fighting methods made those sorts of fire worse?

"I think there were people inside," Susan muttered, glaring at the cottage.

"They'll be fine," Fred said carelessly.

"Shame," Susan growled.

* * *

Meanwhile, somewhere in a damp Welsh swamp, Remus Lupin was seriously wondering what had possessed him to agree to this.

"Tea?" Tonks asked.

"Thank you." He took the cup and looked to their right as Tonks squeezed in next to him on the battered armchair. Colin, Dennis, and half a dozen other Hogwarts students, all under the age of 15, were packed into his old home. Fred and George had decided it wasn't fair to ask the younger students to fight the big fight, just to ask them to act like Satan's spawn. So Colin had volunteered to form the Auxiliary Platoon Wing of Bad-assery and Dumbledore, so named because Dennis had a thing of acronyms. As it turned out, the Creevey brothers had a lot of friends, or at least acquaintances, and sending a letter that basically read "The headmaster requests you turn Hogwarts into a war zone" was a fairly good way to recruit small(ish) children.

"Look at that," Tonks smiled. "Bunch of little mischief makers. Did I ever tell you about the time I morphed to look like Dumbledore and walked around for a whole two hours asking people if they were wearing clean underwear, just in case they got into an accident and they had to go to St Mungo's?"

"Oh, Merlin. Did you actually?"

"Uh-huh. Say, what're Dennis and Hettie doing?"

Remus squinted to where the two children were, unlike the others who were packing up explosives and debating the consequences of mixing pranks, instead poring over a large sheet of parchment. "I… don't know."

"Maybe they got bored?" Tonks suggested, but the ex-Marauder shook his head.

"Writing things down on paper is a fairly important stage of the chaotic process, Nymphadora."

"Don't call me Nympha – wait, how do you know?"

He raised an eyebrow as Dennis leaned over and put a speck of ink on Hettie's nose. "You think I put up with Sirius Black and James Potter for 7 years straight and never got entangled in their escapades?"

"I thought it was just from being around them!" Tonks nudged him. "Go on then, tell me what you got up to."

"A lot," Remus admitted. "We put catnip in McGonagall's desk once. Didn't do anything but get us a detention. Well, she was a little tipsy later…"

Tonks laughed. "Not very good for a Prefect, hmm?"

"Hey, James was head boy," Remus smiled. "And that year he definitely got up to some shenanigans…" He sighed.

Sensing the sadness, Tonks leaned into him. "And now, look at all the children we're corrupting. Evil, evil people, us."

He hummed in response, watching Ewan Abercrombie experimentally painting one of his walls purple. As much as he was loath to admit it, it was quite nice being here. Yes, it was cold, yes, it was wet, yes, Voldemort was at large, yes, he was a werewolf… but somehow, the entire thing made him feel content, to the point that he didn't mind Jasmine Roberts whispering to Colin that the two adults were "Definitely a ship, OTP."

"Professor Lupin, Auror Tonks?"

He blinked and saw Dennis and Hettie standing in front of them with the sheet of parchment. Not just a sheet of parchment, he realised, a map. A map of Hogwarts, the grounds, and Hogsmeade, detailed with secret passageways and hidden rooms, some of which he'd never even heard of. "The Auxiliary Platoon Wing of Bad-assery and Dumbledore is proud to present the Satan Spawn Map," the words at the top read – clearly Fred had been very firm on that point.

"How do we make it move?" Hettie asked eagerly, eyes sparkling, and as Tonks gasped and started bouncing slightly in excitement (honestly, where did she get her energy from?), something that had been forcibly locked away woke up and started singing.

Out of tune, of course.

* * *

"I have a lot of questions," Minerva McGonagall decided, as Snape walked into Order Headquarters with a horribly confused 12-year-old in tow.

"He insisted on coming over to join the APWBD," Snape groused. "I didn't give him the secret, so he has no clue where we are."

"It's all blurry," the neonate agreed.

"And goodness knows this is an awful idea, and I don't want my best potions student corrupted by the idiot wolf and the blackspawn," Snape said reluctantly, "But you're going to have to take him."

"A Slytherin?" McGonagall asked.

"An awesome person," the child corrected her. "Professor."

"I don't know why I don't hate the brat, or how he got into Slytherin," Snape muttered.

"I love you too, Professor," the child said evenly.

"Ah, now I remember," Snape grumbled.

"I suppose we'll take him," McGonagall sighed. "I'll go call Albus."

* * *

"Why," the Dark Lord asked dangerously, "Have we suddenly acquired half a dozen life-sized statues and lost half-a-dozen men?"

"The Gorgons weren't very happy, my Lord," a Death Eater simpered.

"CRUCIO!" the Dark Lord roared, and as the Death Eater fell, he turned to the others. "Are you pure-blood wizards or Muggles? We will collect them, or they will fall!"

"What are we to do now, my Lord? I will attack them, if you wish," Bellatrix said eagerly.

"Ah, Bella, my faithful servant… no, I have another task for you… in a week's time…" the Dark Lord paused. "You will lead the attack on Azkaban prison."

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix breathed. "I will not fail you."

Lord Voldemort laughed high and cold. "Potter and the traitor brats will fall, and we will be unhindered at last."

"It will be done," Bellatrix agreed.

* * *

"No letters!" Fudge cheered.

"No dead Potter," Umbridge grumbled.

"Someone burned down Urquhart Cottage," Percy reported.

"Never mind that!" Mafalda Hopkirk gasped. "Someone's blocked every bathroom entry to the Ministry and used permanent sticking charms on all our real bathrooms so the toilet seats are permanently left up!"

"For Merlin's sake, leave, idiot woman!" Umbridge screeched.

"That sounds like something Arthur Weasley could take to keep him busy," Fudge mused. "Your… father… would be kept out of the way, would he not?"

"Yes, sir," Percy agreed, though he was starting to wonder if he was living in a peanut gallery. Or a nut house. Maybe he should move to Mexico. Mexico had tacos.

"Good, give him that… oh, Mafalda? With the way in broken we don't have spare resources. Cancel the rest of the muggleborn information convention," Fudge ordered.

"Yes, sir," Mafalda squeaked.

"Stupid mudbloods plugging up Ministry resources for good, respectable citizens," Umbridge grumbled.

Seventy-five yards away, Elizabeth Abercrombie put down her Extendable Ear Camouflage Edition. It had been part of a package her brother had sent her as part of her first year as a real, bona-fide witch. If this was what real, bona-fide witches took part in, knocking mean women in secret, she wanted in.


	11. Harry's Merry Band of Pyromaniacs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all honesty, this is just chapter 10 1/2. I let the plot bunnies in and they BRED (the horror!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

"Oh, _MERLIN,_ " Snape groaned.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows as the grouchy man folded up his letter and shooed away the big barn owl that had delivered it moments before.

"It's Dumbledore's bloody Army," Snape grumbled. "They've set fire to the Carrow Lodge."

"Oh," McGonagall said, unsure of how to react.

"It's all very fine and well," Snape continued irritably, "But now I'm the one who has to go pretend he doesn't know anything to the Dark Lord."

"I see."

"And," Snape rambled on, "How did they get there? How?"

"Where is it, then?" McGonagall asked. "Surely it can't be that difficult to get to. Warded, perhaps, but surely…"

"Oh, the wards are terrible," Snape told her. "Amycus and Alecto are firmly of the opinion that none of their residences could possibly be breached should they be there to defend them. I'd be surprised if they have basic muggle-repelling or alarm wards."

"Then… it can't be that difficult to get there. It's in…?"

"Scotland."

"Well," McGonagall pointed out, "We have a lot of students who live in Scotland."

"On a rock. In the middle of the sea. A rock surrounded by more rocks surrounded by water. There are probably sharks living in the water, not to mention shrakes or the odd abomination of experimental breeding."

"Ah."

"Did I mention they burn the places down with gasoline?"

"…Have a biscuit, Severus."

"I've been eating biscuits since yesterday morning."

* * *

"Hey, you'll never guess what I just got!" Harry cried, waving a small leather pouch around.

"…a small leather pouch?" Ron guessed.

"He probably means what's inside the pouch, Ronald," Hermione pointed out.

"I knew that," Ron muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fred and George got busy. Look at these." He tipped the bag over into his palm, depositing some gleaming coins into it.

"Sickles," Hermione noticed.

"Mm hmm," Harry agreed.

"So, do they explode like Luna's carrot bombs?" Ron asked.

"…no."

"Oh," Ron said, sounding disappointed. "Those were kind of cool."

Hermione picked one up from Harry's palm. "Are they… ooh, look there, they're like my Galleons," she commented, pleased.

"Yeah. The Galleons, according to the inside of the envelope, weren't convenient for full blown conversations, so here we are. We have to keep them on us, though, because the conversation doesn't advance until we've all confirmed we've read the message."

Hermione squinted. "It says here they've set fire to the Carrow Lodge."

"Who's set fire to Carrow Lodge?" Neville asked, stumbling into the room, weighed down by a large box of miscellaneous sharp objects and slightly chipped bolts.

Harry threw him a coin. It landed in the box. "The DA, apparently."

"Where is Carrow Lodge, anyway?" Ron asked. "Isn't that a holiday home?"

They all shrugged. "If it was a holiday home," Hermione pointed out, "It would be deserted."

"Well, at least they're doing something," Neville sighed, starting to sort through the box. "Duelling this afternoon? Ginny and Luna made a couple of murder-dummies."

"I suppose we'd better," Harry said, turning the coin over. "It's been quiet. They're planning something."

Neville removed the coin and went to pop it on the table, then stopped, frowning. "Why do these smell like vegetables?" he asked.

* * *

"Do you think we should have intercepted that parcel?" Fudge asked.

Umbridge scoffed. "It had six sickles in it. Besides, we've nearly trained the Aurors."

"Six sickles?" Fudge asked. "But – what if they explode?"

"It's only six," Umbridge waved her arm around. "Like I said, Cornelius, the Aurors are nearly ready to take down those brats. If only we still had the dementors."

Fudge still looked worried.

"At least we aren't being attacked by a crazed owl," Percy muttered to his neighbour.

* * *

"No," Remus sighed. "You're not going on an expedition to burn down Carrow Lodge. It's too dangerous."

"We've already done it," Colin squeaked.

"What? When?!" Remus asked, nearly falling out of his chair as his stomach decided today was the day for a vacation.

"An hour ago," Hettie reported smugly.

"How did you get on a rock in the middle of the sea?" Tonks asked curiously. "The place is isolated as anything, and I'm pretty sure you'd get pulled over for violating the Statue if you all flew in formation over Scotland at 10 in the morning."

"I snuck onto Hogwarts grounds and pinched some thestrals," Ewan smirked.

"You'd be surprised at how easily people miss levitating schoolchildren," Dennis added. "You'd think they'd have learned their lesson after all the movies…"

"You can't all be able to see thestrals," Remus said slowly.

"None of us can. But if you cover them with flour and hose them off when you're done…" Ewan trailed off.

"Mum's going to go nuts about the dahlias," Liz Wheeler grumbled.

"That's how everyone got there," Colin added. "We brought the ride, they brought the firepower."

"I brought the dynamite," Boris Herston pointed out.

"Yeah, that," Dennis agreed.

"How did you get dynamite?" Remus asked tiredly.

"Dad works in arms manufacturing," Boris chirped innocently. "I said I wanted to test it out. By the way, it didn't do much, but it did make a nice bang."

"Merlin," Remus muttered.

Tonks patted his back sympathetically. "It's okay, they're only committing arson… well, actually, that's not really… well…"

"Oh, yeah," Hettie said. "There's something up with the map. Are the bathrooms meant to be unplottable?"

* * *

"Only two more days!" Bellatrix squealed, sounding like a girl at a pop concert. A thoroughly demented girl at a pop concert, but still. "Aren't you excited, Cissy?"

"Yes, Bella," Narcissa replied in a monotone. "I just wish Mulciber would stop banging on about how he's going to blow up the most people. It's harsh on Draco's ears, and uncouth."

"Aw, Cissy," Bellatrix sighed. "Don't spoil our fun…"

"I won't," Narcissa promised. "I just wish for Mulciber to be a… politer guest. The Dark Lord doesn't go into detail about eviscerations, does he?"

"The Dark Lord is _perfect_ ," Bellatrix enthused.

That wasn't quite what Narcissa had meant, but she decided it was probably best to nod along.

"We're going to have such fun!" Bellatrix continued, tottering around as if slightly tipsy. "A raid! We haven't had a proper raid in ages. Muggles are nice, sure, but they don't fight back. It's so _boring_. Except for those metal sticks." She cackled. "Now those are fun…"

"Firearms," Narcissa commented. "Arthur Weasley wrote a report on them. I suppose we could create a spell that works similarly, it was rather irritating trying to dig the metal bits out of Avery's shoulder…"

"You're a brilliant Healer, Cissy," Bellatrix chirped. "You'll patch them up."

"I hope so. Are you taking my boy with you?" Narcissa asked in as casual a tone as she could muster.

"No." Bellatrix pouted. "The Dark Lord said he had a special task for him. It's an honour, I suppose, and I wouldn't dare contradict the Dark Lord, but I wanted to see little Draco make his first kill…"

"What task?" Narcissa asked warily.

"What, hasn't Lucius told you yet? Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore." Bella giggled. "Maybe the Dark Lord lets me go on the Hogwarts strike team I will get to see it…"

"I'm glad," Narcissa sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, Azkaban isn't the place for Draco. Not yet. When he's a more experienced Death Eater, then maybe. I don't want to see him blown up."

"To die in the Dark Lord's service is noble," Bellatrix pointed out testily.

"To survive at his side is better," Narcissa said delicately. "We have, have we not?"

Bellatrix nodded slowly. "I think I see that…"

Narcissa tapped her fingers thoughtfully on her chair. "I think I need to send a message to one of our brethren. I'll be back soon, sister."

* * *

"Where's your sister?" Remus asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Little Elizabeth," Remus said impatiently. "Where is she?"

"She's helping George sneak a fire-bomb into the Department of Mermaid and Siren Regulation."

"How – why –"

"The muggleborn inductions are back on again."

"AUGH!" The werewolf threw himself backwards onto the chair and flopped over, eyes closed.

Tonks pouted. "You've broken him. I liked him, Ewan. Now what do I do?"

"He usually gets up at the mention of chocolate," Dennis suggested, as Colin did what he did best and took a picture.

"We're out," Tonks said. "It all got turned into brownies."

"You could kiss him awake like in Snow White," Ewan sniggered.

"Sleeping Beauty," Hettie added with a snort.

Remus curled up in a ball, letting out a warning grumble and placing his face firmly against his knees.

Tonks pouted more.

Somewhere in Hogwarts, Snape had a peculiar feeling, like he wasn't sure whether to cheer, or retire effective immediately, though he couldn't work out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is beginning to devolve into non-serious crack. As such, the update schedule has been flung out of a closed window in favour of quality, as of the end of this chapter.


	12. This is Why Nobody Likes You, Bella.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously... Arc 1 happened - and the Ministry 6 acquired Azkaban.  
> Our Azkabanians taunted some Aurors and recruited some teenagers.  
> Hedwig and the 6 destroyed the Ministry once again...  
> Plot Bunny Break.  
> And now for something completely different...

Harry awoke to a familiar noise, as if bees had invaded his room. He opened his eyes to a dark room, and glanced outside to see the moon was nowhere to be seen, the sky an inky black expanse dotted with stars. It was nowhere near morning, and the wards were going off again. "Past midnight," he grumbled, reluctantly getting out of his comparatively warm bed and grabbing his wand from the inexpertly transfigured table to his right. "They couldn't even have the decency to wait till dawn," he continued, muttering to himself as he pulled on a second set of robes to stop himself freezing solid in the night air. "Then again, after the whole bloody quill saga, I don't know why I'm surprised…"

Getting to his feet, he straightened his clothes, grabbed a spare wand and small sling of potions from the corner of the room, and opened his door. When he stepped out of his room into the hallway, it was to five other teenagers, rubbing sleep from their eyes and looking vaguely grumpy. Despite the ungodly hour at which they had been awoken, all were well prepared, properly dressed, and in the girl's case, with their hair away from their faces, and all were holding various objects with which to use as weapons; wands, staffs, a large box of sharp pointy things, a sack of sprouts.

"Luna," Hermione yawned, "Is it wise to keep throwing our source of sustenance at the Ministry?"

"Don't worry, Hermione," Luna smiled. "Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration prevents you from conjuring food, but duplication works fine. Besides, Ronald hates sprouts, don't you, Ron?"

"Uh huh," Ron nodded eagerly. "Throw the sprouts at them, Luna."

Ginny looked like she was going to make a comment, but before her mouth was half open, there was a dull rumbling noise and the sound of angrily squawking geese. "Already?" Hermione asked incredulously. "The wards only went off a minute ago, how have they landed already?"

"They're getting more efficient," Neville said grimly, leaning his staff against his shoulder and hefting his Box of Death. "Come on, let's go."

"I wonder what they've brought this time?" Ginny asked, as they set off at a brisk pace down the corridor. "If they've brought along curse-breakers…"

"That might get a little awkward," Harry snorted. Somehow, the image of Ron and Ginny pulling faces at their older brother had popped up exceedingly vividly in his mind, and even in his current state, it was quite amusing to him.

"I don't think they'd be daft enough to bring Bill along," Ron commented, as they turned a corner and the walls became illuminated by a multicoloured kaleidoscope of light. "Keen, aren't they?"

"Do you recognize those voices?" Hermione asked curiously. "They're not the usual people but I think… I think I recognize a few."

There was a brief silence as the other five strained their ears, and indeed, Harry could make out voices that he'd heard before, but couldn't quite place. The low, hoarse yell of a male, the sharp, slightly fanatical voice of a female, another male with an uncommonly smooth tone…

"Yes, they do sound awfully familiar, don't they?" Luna mused.

"Could be the Order?" Ron said hopefully, though it came out as a question rather than a statement.

"It could be," Ginny said, "But I wouldn't bet on it. You'd think we'd recognize the Order."

"It's been a long time since we heard any of them," Harry pointed out.

"I don't think it's them," Neville said slowly. "Two reasons. I never met the Order, and I recognize those voices as much as any of you…" He trailed off, and Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as something indistinguishable filled the air around them, suffocating without substance.

"And the second reason?" Hermione asked, not without trepidation. She was eyeing him critically, hands on her hips, left and right hovering over two of her four wands, clearly wondering what she might have missed.

Neville pointed to the colours on the wall. "Green."

* * *

"Did anyone think to warn the kids?" Remus yelped, jerking upright.

"Warn them what?" Tonks asked sleepily. "Aren't most of them out blowing up another house tonight?"

"Not our kids – I mean – not the ones we're housing – the bigger ones! Harry, and all that!" Remus exclaimed, jumping out of his chair and grabbing the floo powder.

"What are we warning them of?" Tonks asked, sitting up and shoving off the blanket.

"The – incendio! Death Eaters – Number 12 Grimmauld Place!" Remus threw the powder into the flames and barely waited for them to turn green before he was peering through the Floo to the other side. "Hello? Who's awake?"

"Merlin damn it!" someone yelped, and a second later, Alastor Moody and Severus Snape came into view. Moody had apparently spilled a large quantity of some drink over himself and wasn't very pleased about it. "Lupin, what the hell is it? It's two in the morning!"

"You told the kids, didn't you?" Remus asked urgently.

"Told them what?" Snape asked irritably. "The kids are your responsibility."

"NOT MY – NOT THE JUNIOR DA!" Remus yelled, now thoroughly irritated and more than a little agitated. "THE ONES CURRENTLY LIVING INSIDE A PRISON! DID YOU TELL THEM ABOUT THE DEATH EATERS?"

"…I thought those Weasleys were going to tell them," Snape said slowly. "Aren't they the ones with the communication devices?"

"…They weren't at that meeting," Moody said, equally slowly. "They were working out how to burn down a house."

"So," Remus said, fighting down the urge to say a few words Sirius had picked out specifically to burst the eardrums of the upper echelons of society, " _Nobody_ has told them anything?"

"…Fuck this," Snape groaned. "We forgot to tell the idiots."

If Lupin hadn't been busy ripping his head and shoulders out of the fireplace and scrambling to grab one of the coins off the three under-13-year-olds currently using his home as a boarding house, he would have been gratified at Snape's genuine concern.

* * *

"AzkDEAtk25Men2AMBtxLstNoLV," Colin attempted to say with a frown. Of course, the message wasn't remotely enunciable, so it came out sounding more like "Asked ear took to five men tour empty ex lest no elfy."

"What?" Fred asked, pausing his inspection of Dean's winding line of fuel to frown at the smaller boy.

"I don't think you're meant to read it like that, Colin," Cho commented, peering over his shoulder. "Azk, DE, Atk, 25, Men, 2, AM, Btx, Lst, No, LV. It's a message that was too long for a single full phrase."

"Azk is Azkaban," Michael put in. "That's obvious at least."

"Atk is a common abbreviation for attack in Muggle video games," Justin offered, fastening a rope around a thestral to prevent it from walking off – a difficult task, when you considered that the thestral was still invisible.

"Azkaban, DE, Attack," Hannah said slowly, nervously flicking at a corner of her matchbox. "That's not good."

"Azkaban Death Eater Attack, 25 Men, 2 AM." Terry spoke with his words empty of inflection as half a dozen hearts simultaneously clenched. "Btx Lst…"

"Bellatrix Lestrange leading," Susan finished grimly.

"At least there's no Voldemort," Colin said, though he didn't sound too cheerful.

"Why would they send us this?" Justin asked in worry. "We can't exactly show up to a Death Eater battle in Azkaban."

"I don't think it's meant for us," Fred said grimly. "That's why so many houses are unoccupied tonight. They're trying to take the island."

There was a moment of quiet, before Dean summed up all their thoughts, snatching the matchbox from Hannah, lighting a taped-together bundle of sticks, and throwing the burning mass down into the fuel trail. "Burn."

* * *

"I got a message!" Ron yelled out over the din, voice cracking slightly with the strain of calling out over dull explosions and spells screamed to the empty heavens. "Death Eaters Attacking Azkaban at 2AM with 25 men, Bellatrix Lestrange at the lead, no Voldemort accompanying them!"

"A bit late, isn't it?" Harry roared back, sending a volley of spells down into the courtyard. They came easily to him, now, silently and chained together as instinctively as breathing after a few weeks' practice, yet in the heat of battle – real battle, even with the wards to protect them – they seemed too weak, too slow, too little.

"Come out and fight, little bitty children!" Bellatrix called out, her voice an odd fusion between a screech and a coo. "Come out and fight the big bad Death Eaters! AVADA KEDAVRA!" And Neville was forced to duck out of the way as the green spell pierced straight through the wards, yet another reminder that no magic could block the Dark Lord's favoured spell. A moment later, he was stumbling back to his feet, and a massive blast of magic had blown a sizeable chunk in the courtyard, throwing Mulciber off his feet and three yards away onto the stone.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed. "The wards!"

Sure enough, a small contingent of Death Eaters had broken away and appeared to be attacking the wards directly. Harry cursed. "Get them first!" he yelled back. "If the wards break we're screwed!"

There was an answering yell of assent as the majority of the six's firepower was refocussed on the men attacking the wards, but just as soon as they did so, the other Death Eaters took note and began shooting curses at a much faster speed, forcing the teens to dodge and weave twice as much.

"We can't split!" Luna cried, her voice barely audible over the mass of hoarse voices, fizzling spells, and insane laughter. "They'll just take us down faster! _Locomotor Sprouts!_ "

As a huge explosion of boiling water and flaming vegetable leaves rained down on the attackers from above, a flash of light caught Harry's eye from the side, even as he grabbed a staff and sent a massive tongue of flame down onto the far end of the beach, yelling out as both the previously well covered Death Eaters and the palms of his hands were burnt. He turned, dropping the hot wood as he did so and reaching with his left hand for his wand, only to see a spidery web of light beginning to show at the edge of the island. Apparently, Ron could see it too. "The first layer's breaking!" he called out hoarsely, and as he said it, a dark curse fizzled into nothing as the webbed lights abruptly shot through the air, meeting in the centre of the sky before something invisible imploded, a flash of raw magic and an explosive pulse of air rushing down to meet the combatants as they responded with horror or joy.

"That was the curse blocking layer!" Ginny called out, twisting to avoid a now-dangerous cutting curse and responding in kind.

"Guys! Can you hold the line?" Luna called out, causing a second vegetable-and-water explosion as she did so.

"I don't know!" Harry called back. "We've never been in a standing battle! Usually we run and they chase us!"

"What are you – BOLLOCKS!" Ron cut himself off, yelping and ducking behind a merlon as half a dozen killing curses shot just above his head. "What're you thinking?" he asked, jumping back up and throwing a combination of randomly banished objects and semi-legal hexes down at his attackers.

"Hermione and I need to go repair the wards!" Luna spoke just loud enough to be heard over the din, apparently hoping none of Voldemort's forces would be able to hear her.

"WHAT?!" Hermione screeched, as a set of three spells forced her to do an odd sort of twirl to evade them, even as she successfully transfigured a man's arms into wooden planks. "Luna, we can't! We're doing badly enough without two of us leaving!"

"They won't expect the wards to come back up, and the outward pulse should knock them back!" Luna cried. "We're fighting Snockacks against Heliopaths, Hermione!"

"But –"

"Luna's right!" Neville yelled, setting half-a-dozen wall-mounted crossbows off into the mass of people below. "It's only going to – ARGH!"

A curse had impacted his arm, tearing through his robes and sending blood pouring down onto the stone, even as Ron hurriedly grabbed a spare piece of cloth from Hermione's supply box and spelled it around his friend's arm. Neville gritted his teeth. "Repair the wards! If they break the second lot, we've got no chance, there's no way we can hold the keep, not yet!"

"Go!" Harry yelled over Ginny screeching a battle cry and narrowly missing out on incinerating a Death Eater. "We'll be fine! Hurry!"

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but Luna grabbed onto her arm and started dragging her back towards the sheltered portion of the castle, and she shot the four remaining a worried look before acquiescing and disappearing from view. Harry took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, looking at the remaining teens for a moment. "Alright. Let's go."

"You got it!" Ginny yelled.

"Right," Neville agreed grimly.

"Together?" Ron asked.

The others all nodded, even in the midst of ducking and swerving around deadly jets of light, and together they raised their wands once more.

"EXPULSUM FLAGRANTUS MAXIMA!"

* * *

"D'you ever get the feeling," Susan asked quietly, "That the world is trying to kill you?"

"All the time," George replied, turning over a stick of dynamite in his hands. "All the time."

"That's how the world is now," Seamus said, voice bitter. "It's us and them, and they're determined to stamp us out. And all the while the rest of the people look on and see nothing. _I_ saw nothing."

"Guys," Hettie called out, "I think we've found a way inside?"

"Are you sure it's empty?" Lavender asked the younger girl anxiously.

"Definitely," Hettie replied.

"Remind me why we're doing this alone?" Ernie questioned the others tersely. "We have grown-ups at our disposal, don't we?"

"They work the theoretical game, we work active, because you can only imprison so many children before the people figure out something's up," Lycoris, the sole Slytherin, said flatly.

"Weren't you meant to be at home?" Terry wondered quietly. He was unheard by the others.

"We're martyrs, if need be," Padma said flatly. "Right?"

"If we lose the adults, the movement is already dead," Parvati pointed out. "So yeah. We are."

Numerous people swallowed.

"Okay, gang," George said. "In we go."

* * *

"Bloody hell," Ron gasped, turning around, one arm swinging uselessly at his side as Harry yelled out in pain. A curse, not one he recognized, had hit him square in the chest. In a moment, he had felt forty-odd stings across his body, before the sensations of heat and wetness drowned them out. "Harry."

"D – defodio," Harry gasped, sending one more curse down at the attacking party before he stumbled back, raucous cheering from the Death Eaters and Bellatrix's insane cackling ringing in his ears as someone – Ginny or Neville, it could have been either, both voices were so muffled and hoarse at this point – roared in rage. "Oh, shit –"

"Mate!" Ron, assigned battlefield medic, ducked down and dashed over to his side, summoning Hermione's neglected supply box over as he did so. "What is –"

"Death Eaters," Harry grunted. "Just close what you can and go back to attacking."

"But –" Ron's brows knitted with anxiety as he reluctantly cut himself off, raising his wand and waving it around, chanting something under his breath. Harry felt most of the cuts close, the newly fused skin tenuously stuck together, and knew he couldn't risk moving. Already his breath felt like it would stretch some of those on his chest apart. It was too late anyway; he was still slowly bleeding onto the stone, and the acute loss of blood from earlier was catching up to him, spots of blackness dancing in front of his eyes.

"Good," he gasped out. "Fight."

"Harry—"

"GO!" Harry exclaimed, wincing as a gash across his ribs popped open once again and a trickle of burning liquid, mercifully slow, made its way down to the ground. Ron frowned unhappily, face a mixture of anger and fear, but he nodded, getting to his feet. As Harry watched his legs run over to the opposite side of the walkway, a familiar freckled arm reaching down into Neville's Box of Death, the black spots overtook his vision completely. The world dissolved into a haze, his ears ringing with spells, stunners and banishers as the world grew constricting and cold, yells of shock and triumph and fear intermingled and echoing in the far reaches of his mind, before the frigid ground seemed to fall away from beneath him, and then there was a wind rushing past him, he was prickling all over…

And then he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insane cackling* CLIFFY!!


	13. Harry has No Damns Left To Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously... Arc 1 happened - and the Ministry 6 acquired Azkaban.  
> Our Azkabanians taunted some Aurors and recruited some teenagers.  
> Hedwig and the 6 destroyed the Ministry once again...  
> Plot Bunny Break.  
> Harry got hit by a spell and fainted...

If collapsing from acute blood loss was unpleasant, waking up to someone two inches away from his nose was enough to give Harry a nasty case of angina. Things were excessively blurry, owing to the absence of his glasses, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of sitting up in bed and bashing his forehead against the person above him. There was a dull thud, Harry flopped back down again, and a familiar voice exclaimed something about 'rushing headlong into everything'.

"I told you he was awakening!" another voice chirped, and as Harry groped around next to him, trying to find his glasses, a pair of hands reached forwards and popped them onto his face. He blinked. Luna was leaning over him with a large red patch on her forehead, while the others stood slightly to the side, Neville complaining vociferously about 'saviours who can't stay uninjured for _two seconds'._

"What happened?" Harry asked, struggling to sit up but being immediately shoved back down (none to gently, either) by Luna, who was still hovering over him in an eerie imitation of Madam Pomfrey – that is, if Madam Pomfrey ever wore a wand behind her ear. The others shuffled a little closer, looking relieved but resigned – as Neville was so kindly pointing out, Harry landing himself in the Wizarding ICU was basically a monthly occurrence by now.

"You got hit," Ron said blandly, and Harry grumbled.

"I know that, what about after that?" he asked indignantly.

"You fainted," Ginny said none too helpfully. "You've been asleep for a day and a half now."

"What about the _fortress?_ "

Neville threw up his hands. "You nearly died of blood loss and you're worried about Azkaban?"

"Yes," Harry said stubbornly. "I'd like to nearly die for a good cause, if you don't mind – plus, we were relatively safe in there."

"Well, we got the wards repaired," Hermione sighed, "But not before Luna decided to magically exhaust herself. We've still got the castle, and we took about ten men permanently and injured almost all of them. The important ones got away, though."

"What exactly was that?" Harry asked. "I mean, I remember a lot of wind – and tingling – but then again, I was dying of blood loss at the time."

"The tingling would have been the wards," Ginny told him. "Like Hermione said, Luna decided to put a little too much magic into them, and they backlashed outwards an awful lot before they stabilized."

"And the cold wind?" Harry prompted.

"Ah, that…" Neville made a face. "So maybe I put a bottle of Dementor Essence in the Box of Death, and maybe Ron panicked and threw it at them."

"Uh…" Harry looked over at the others. Hermione was shaking her head in exasperation, Ron was looking paler than usual, Ginny was looking absolutely unrepentant, and Luna was humming to herself. "Great?"

"There are nine soulless husks, a legless corpse, three severed legs, and a nose lying around in the courtyard," Ginny told him idly. "Apparently Dementor Essence is just kisses-in-a-bottle. Dunno where the souls swent and I don't care."

"Alright, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "We'll see worse. D'you think they make dementors from that stuff, or extract it from them?"

There were a few shrugs. "What do we do with the bodies?" Neville asked. "We can dump them in the sea again, I suppose…"

"Can we keep them for experiments? It's not like they're conscious anymore," Luna pointed out.

Ron edged away slightly.

"I suppose if they're not conscious…" Hermione mused to herself. "We do need test subjects…"

Ron looked like he was seriously regretting his life choices.

* * *

_Awake. Healing. Held fort._

"Harry's alive!" Fred yelled down the stairs.

"And they've still got the castle!" George added, even louder than his twin.

Dumbledore, who had been pacing round in circles in the kitchen, sat down at the dinner table, much to the relief of everyone who had been watching him. "Very good, Messrs. Weasley!" he called up to them, before turning to the rest of the Order. "They have managed to hold onto their place without casualties, then, and the prophecy can go on."

"I'll go tell Molly," Arthur volunteered getting up from his chair and near-running up the stairs. Molly had been more than a little worried about 'her babies' and had been hiding in the bedroom for fifteen hours, since she got kicked out of the kitchen for making 1,284 pounds of eggs.

"Yes, good… any news, then?" Dumbledore asked the others. "Good, I hope, though bad is necessary, if it's there."

"The Dark Lord has failed to find out a way to grow back Mulciber's leg," Snape reported flatly. "At this rate, he's going to need something like Mad-Eye's. Bella is, of course, inordinately smug about the fact he lost a leg while she got out unharmed, and Narcissa is twice as scared for Draco now."

"Do you know how Harry got hit?" Hestia asked, and Snape grimaced, not that he usually had any sort of pleasant expression on his face.

"Sectumsempra," he admitted and a number of people glared at him. "Let me remind you that if you all didn't refuse to use the spell they would not hold an advantage. In any case, it doesn't seem like the _children_ are holding back, considering Gamp – the cousin, not the heir – has burns to forty percent of his body."

" _How much?_ " Diggle asked.

"He's also missing a nose, though I don't exactly know how they managed that – Longbottom, no doubt," Snape snorted.

"The Jr DA isn't exactly holding back either," Tonks admitted. "They're a little out of control. They also have an interactive map of Hogwarts that tracks not only the location of every person, but also if they're in animagus form, if they're casting any spells or under any, if they're anywhere near the room of requirement, and if they're currently experiencing any bodily functions."

"Is that why the werewolf's missing?" Snape asked, forgetting to sneer in lieu of wondering how exactly a bunch of barely-Hogsmeade-age students had managed to track people's bathroom habits, and whether the map could be used to catch his own students sneaking Gillywater into the dorms.

"Remus is missing because Quentin Dahl, Lycoris Abbot-Shafiq, and Dennis Creevey have expressed plans to sneak into Hogsmeade, steal Thestrals, and fly to Askaban to obtain passage into the Chamber of Secrets, and therefore cannot be left alone," Tonks said flatly.

"They're your children," Sturgis muttered.

"Have we gotten _anywhere_ in the convince-the-public campaign?" Emmeline asked irritably. "I'm getting bored of waking up to people who can't even Apparate doing more than us."

"To be fair, Messrs. Weasley and Weasley are adults," McGonagall pointed out.

"They're also the Weasley Twins," Snape grumbled.

* * *

"QUENTIN DAHL, PUT THAT FLOO POWDER BACK!" Remus bellowed from across the room. "FOR THE LAST TIME, NOBODY IS GOING TO AZKABAN! Now, Hettie, you have to be careful here, or else it might detonate – LYCORIS ABBOT-SHAFIQ, THAT APPLIES TO YOU TOO!"

"Aww," Lycoris grumbled. "I told you not to talk about it in front of him."

"D'you think if we just make hissy noises at the entrance we could get in?" Dennis asked. "I mean, Colin said it's in a toilet."

"But then we'll have to wait until we get back to school, and You-Know-Poo will be watching over us," Quentin moaned. "What then?"

"We could tell them we're trying to resurrect the monster," Lycoris pointed out. "I mean, they might believe me. I could tell them I'm corrupting you."

"Corrupting?" Dennis asked. "Aside from the fact that we're both Muggleborn…"

"Okay, I'm using you as a sacrifice but I didn't tell you," Lycoris sighed.

Over at the other side of the room, Remus groaned and rubbed his temples. "Why are some of you still here, anyway? Emily, you've been here for five days…"

"I paid off Penelope Clearwater to obliviate my parents, then obliviate herself of obliviating my parents," Emily Dearborn told him. "They're now a pair of hippies named Blooming Rose and Flying Falcon, and along with my little brother Precious Demon, they're moving to a seaside town in the South of Spain to make a living off fishing and hemp skirt-making."

"WHAT?!"

"To be fair, none of us, Penelope included, know how a hippie actually lives," Emily mused, "So that may have been a problem… I had them withdraw their life savings, sell the house, and move last week. I told them I was their moving agent and now they've got valid visas and everything. Last I heart Precious Demon was thinking about starting a line of rainbow t-shirts with magic spells for names, so maybe it wasn't a complete obliviation, but at least they're not in Britain."

"Merlin…" Remus groaned. "Has anyone else done anything similar?"

"We sent ours to live in Patagonia, but they've still got their memories!" Colin piped up. "They own a tourist trap now. It sells shirts with Harry's face on it, only he's a Weasley and also has hazel eyes for some reason."

"I paid off Clearwater to mine to convert to the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster and become pirates," Quentin admitted. "Now they've got guns. And booty."

"My dad is in weapons," Boris pointed out. "The backyard is sort of full of mines, though…"

"I convinced Mundungus Fletcher to make my entire orphanage start a metal band," Aveline Baker said timidly. "I think Sister Martha makes a great singer."

"How did you get Dung to do it?" Euan asked.

"I told him I'd have you feed him to the thestrals," Aveline replied shyly. "Also, Hannah was talking to me, she said Hermione sent a message asking us to obliviate her parents and have them move to Australia."

There was the dull thunk of a thirty-something-year-old werewolf skull hitting the table.

* * *

"Cissy!" Bellatrix whined. "Talk to meee!"

"I am!" Narcissa exclaimed. "What do you expect me to say?!"

"Did I do good?" Bellatrix asked. "Come on! I did good on the raid, right?"

"Yes, you did good," Narcissa said wearily. "The others were just pusillanimous, useless mannequins."

"Right!" Bellatrix cheered. "Thanks, Cissy! Say hello to Draco for me!"

"Alright, Bella," Narcissa sighed.

Half a minute there was a loud bang from down the hallway, a yell of 'pusillanimous mannequin', and the sound of loud screaming.

"Cissy, dear," Lucius sighed, "Do you realise she comes to you for permission to torture the grunts when our Lord isn't present?"

"Really?" Narcissa asked vaguely. "I hadn't realised."

"I think it's mostly her trying to bond with you," Lucius said flatly. "She tried to have Draco torture one of them yesterday but Draco told her he currently had a bad case of Wizard's Flu and hid in his room."

"Ah," Narcissa sighed. "So that's why he's covered in spots. I thought hanging around the riff-raff had given him acne."

"CISSY!" Bellatrix shrieked from down the hall. "COME, SISTER! I STILL HAVEN'T GOT AROUND TO TEACHING YOU THAT CURSE AUNT WALBURGA SHOWED ME! DRACO'S NEARLY ALL GROWN UP, WE HAVE TIME NOW! I BET I CAN MAKE THIS GUY GROW AN EXTRA EAR!"

* * *

"Look, Harry, soulless husks respond to the Imperius!" Luna cheered, walking into the room followed by a soulless Death Eater. Said Death Eater was dressed in a black muggle suit that, by the trim on the edge, had been transfigured from a flowery curtain. He also sported an admittedly fetching bow tie and blue-and-bronze hair and was carrying a proudly cooing Hedwig on a shiny owl-perch.

Harry was confused.

"This is Jenkins!" Luna beamed. "I didn't know his name, so he's Jenkins now! We've got a butler!"

"Your owl, sir," Jenkins said in a perfect B-flat monotone, holding out Hedwig, who ruffled her feathers approvingly and hopped daintily from the perch onto Harry's shoulder. And then proceeded to ruin the image by rearranging Harry's hair in the same manner as one would rearrange a nest.

"Uh…"

"LUNA!"

Harry jumped as Hermione exploded through the door, one foot in front of her as if she's kicked it open. Hermione looked absolutely frazzled, hair twice as bushy as normal, slightly pale, and with a number of strangely coloured, viscous, or bloodied ingredients on her fingers. "I tried out the recipe for dementor essence and guess what? It turned one of the husks into a proto-dementor, only without the cold feeling! I did replace the Augrey feather with a phoenix one I ripped out of a broken wand, but it worked! Oh my Merlin, this has so many applications, we could create an army that rivals You-Know-Who's this is brilliant, I wonder…"

"Excuse me," Luna said primly, as Hermione continued babbling on. "I believe I need to go check on a very important experiment. Come, Jenkins." The girl turned around, beckoned to the soulless slave, and skipped out the door. Jenkins followed her out. Skipping.

"What just happened?" Harry asked Hedwig. Hedwig just barked cheerfully and attempted to consume a bookmark. To be fair, Ron had spilled purple gravy all over it. And it was made of some sort of leather.

Harry shrugged and got back to the important task of turning sprouts into expelliarmus bombs.

* * *

"Ooh, who's this?" Hettie cooed, tickling a very small and very tweety owl as it fluffed up its feathers, shrilling happily.

"That's Pig," Fred beamed, watching Colin climb up onto the cupboard and extract the owl treats from behind it.

"Pig?" Lycoris demanded. "Why would you name an owl Pig?"

"Ginny named him Pigwidgeon," George explained. "Ron is resentful to this day."

"Say, Fred," Boris said slowly. "Didn't you say that Tonks said that the Senior DA was using Harry's owl to screw with the Minister's office?"

Fred looked down at the younger boy, and shot a sharp glance at George, before the entire room's faces split into identical, evil grins.

"Okay, I'll deal with the delivery package, Colin, Dennis, you learn off the twins, Hettie go get legacy help!" Boris exclaimed, and jumped bodily out of the window, muttering about the pros and cons of Molotov cocktails versus controlled quantities of C4.

"…what's a Molotov cocktail?" Fred asked.

"It's like a firebomb, but made of alcohol," Colin explained, as Dennis nodded furiously. "Hettie? Legacy help?"

"Oh! Right!" Hettie squeaked and rushed out the door, her voice carrying through the entire house. "PROFESSOR MOONY! PROFESSOR MOO-NYY!"

Down in the hall, Remus groaned. "HETTIE, THE MAP DOES NOT NEED TO TRACK THE LAST TIME A PERSON HAD A SHOWER!"

"IT'S NOT THAT! WE'RE GONNA BLOW UP THE MINISTRY WITH AN OWL!"

"YOU'RE WHAT? NO!"

"ONLY A BIT OF IT! PLEASE? HARRY DID IT!"

"I'M NOT HELPING YOU BOMB THE MINISTRY!"

"Lupin," Snape grumbled, walking into the room, "Now is not the time for you to grow a spine."

"PLEASE?" Hettie begged at the top of her lungs, sliding down the bannister and stepping into the old dining room if the increase in volume was anything to go by. "WE'LL SEND IT TO THE WEREWOLF REGISTRY? IT'S NOT LIKE THEY'RE DOING ANYTHING USEFUL ANYWAY!"

"Hettie," Remus called out, no longer at the top of his lungs but certainly loud enough for the house to hear, "I'm meant to be setting a good example! That means being unbiased!"

"BUT PROFESSOR! WE'LL BUY YOU CHOCOLATE!"

"No! Hettie, bribery isn't a valid currency!"

"BUT LYCORIS BRIBED SNAPE TO STAY OFF OUR BACKS WITH FIREWHISKEY!"

"How –" Remus spluttered, shooting an absolutely unrepentant Snape a glare, before he turned back to the task at hand. "How did you get a hold of firewhiskey?! And why?!"

"BECAUSE HE'S ALWAYS IN A BAD MOOD AND ALCOHOL FIXES EVERYTHING!"

"Hettie, NO!"

"PLEASE? WE CAN DO THAT DOOR-LOCKING THING YOU NEVER GOT AROUND TO AT SCHOOL ON ALL THEIR BATHROOMS!"

"Fine…" Remus groaned, before turning to Snape. "This is on your head, by the way."

"So I hear," Snape said flatly. "But I'm also drunk at the moment, because Bella won't shut up, so I care even less than usual."

* * *

"Harry," Neville said timidly, and Harry turned around in surprise, putting down _Ye Curses of ye Body and Brane_ and closing it. Neville hadn't been timid for a good while, and Harry hadn't even noticed; now, back to the beginning, it was glaringly obvious and slightly unsettling.

"Yeah?"

Neville took a deep breath. "Blenkinsopp is freaking me out."

"What – who?" Harry asked. "What's a Blenkin – oh. Luna's given you a zombie slave, hasn't she?"

"Yes, and he follows me everywhere," Neville muttered. "It's creepy. And I want to know why the first thing she thought when nine Death Eaters got their souls sucked out was 'free slaves'."

"To be fair, Hermione's first thought was 'I wonder if I can make a dementor out of that'," Harry pointed out.

"That's not much better," Neville grumbled. "Look!" He pointed to the edge of the room, where, sure enough, Blenkinsopp, in red-and-gold glory, was quietly awaiting orders.

"Maybe you could give him back to Luna?" Harry suggested. "Apparently Igor isn't quite enough extra help for the experiments."

"Igor?!"

"Hermione and Luna share a sense of humour," Harry muttered. "Don't ask."

"This is so weird," Neville grumbled.

"Have you given him an order yet?" Harry asked. "Luna came in with Smithers a while ago and I made him scrub the blood off the courtyard."

"I – no – it's too weird for me, really," Neville sighed. "I do all the muggle defences by hand, I'm not letting him near the garden, and everything else needs magic. Do you want him?"

"Not really," Harry said.

"Oh. Okay, come on, Blenkinsopp, we're going to see Luna."

"Going to see creator. Good," Blenkinsopp said, in monotone F.

Harry decided it was far too late to rein Luna and Hermione in and went back to reading so he could find a staff-compatible spell that Ginny might be able to use without creating a lake where the paving was meant to be. Testing the puppetry curse he'd found on the next wave of attackers sounded like a bit much at this point.


	14. Irresponsible Resource Allocation, Mostly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, this is short and probably mostly fluffy-crackish stuff rather than true plot enhancement. But it's what turned up, so...  
> ¯\\_ (ツ)_/¯

Being at school was dead depressing, especially with the Ministry-mandated observers present; the only silver linings were Hogsmeade visits, the complete lack of security measures, and the fact that Dumbledore’s office appeared to be leaking superglue down the stairs. Privately, much of Gryffindor house believed that Dumbledore was, indeed, still living in there; Hufflepuff thought he was in hiding, and Ravenclaw had a weird theory involving dragons, Albania, and a ten-tonne sheep.

The mood in the castle was curious, to say the least. There was a definite air of concern from much of the populace, but it was supplemented by a sense of mischievous/rebellious/murderous/stalker intent that seemed to emit from a very familiar group of students, much to the frustration of the Minister-appointed staff. It wasn’t like they could prove anything, at all, and it was exceedingly unnerving seeing Lycoris Abbot-Shafiq of Slytherin send Colin Creevey of Gryffindor a perfectly friendly, somewhat evil grin over breakfast. The fact that the child’s excuse involved human sacrifices to invoke hell snakes didn’t really help either.

It was only three days in that the castle’s walls were breached by enemy forces, not that the establishment knew a thing about it. It was 7 in the evening, and the DA and Jr DA were hanging around the Room of Requirement like a bunch of delinquents – which they were. There was a project that involved sneaking out of Hogsmeade and blowing up a house being planned, three small children were spying on the 6th and 7th years of all houses for the sake of rooting out Death Eaters (apparently, anyway), and in an isolated corner, a formula for a potion to cause one’s leg hair to catch fire was being tested on an unfortunate rat. It was exceedingly lucky that Padma Patil had more sense than Harry or Hermione ever had, and had put a very long, very hard to guess password, on the door.

It was ‘All Hail the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, for He Will Be Our Salvation, Praise Salazar Slytherin, Puffskeins’. Suffice it to say anyone looking for a rebel group would be having a hard time figuring out what the hell was going on.

It was within the Room of Requirement that the DA encountered a number of thoroughly puffed-out geese carrying a large package. A few spells quickly removed the possibility of a hostile attack, so they sent the geese back home (they flew out a chimney. This led to a discussion on why the hell they had a chimney) and opened up the package.

“Are you sure?” Hermione had asked, as Harry packed up the box and Luna taped the top up.

“Positive,” Harry said firmly. “They need it more than we do.”

Hermione had frowned slightly, but said nothing as they finished attaching the box to Luna’s geese and sent them on their way. Now, in the Room, the box was cut open and there were numerous yells of surprise as the contents popped out. A number of the Jr DA stumbled back with squeals of horror, Lavender Brown nearly fell over, and a good few swear words that should not have been spoken in front of the younger students were uttered.

“Holy Merlin, is that a dead body?!” Hettie cried, voicing the concerns of her brethren quite well.

“It’s still breathing – I think –” Cho took a tentative step forward and bent down to look. “It’s still breathing – I think it’s been kissed.” She straightened up with a frown, apparently unsure of whether to be curious or repulsed.

“Why in the name of Merlin’s tits would someone send us a kissed body?” Seamus asked, face twisting into mixed disgust and confusion.

“There’s other stuff in there too,” Ernie said pragmatically, leaning forward and tugging a number of objects out. “Looks like a book of notes – two sticks with gemstones on them – more notes – there’s some sort of plant wrapped up here…”

“That’s alihotsy and withering vine,” Michael said slowly. “Withering vine’s nearly illegal to get. And those stick things are staffs…”

“Is nobody going to pay attention to what the plants are wrapped up in?” Dennis Creevey asked loudly.

“…silver fabric?” Lavender Brown asked slowly. There were a few murmurs of confusion from the Senior DA, as the Jr DA groaned and rolled their eyes. Suddenly, Susan’s eyes widened comically.

“That’s an Invisibility Cloak!”

“Bingo,” Lycoris drawled. “Potter’s sent us an exceedingly valuable magical artefact of his. And you dunderheads thought it was salad wrapping.”

“He’s been spending too much time around Snape,” Dean muttered. “Christ.”

“Is there a letter?” Hannah asked, uncharacteristically sharply. “Because even if this is from Azkaban, there’s still a body to deal with.”

“Here!” Colin chirped. “ _Dear DA_

_Here’s a few things we thought you might like, now you’re back at school._

  * _Some notes from the books here. We sorted through and found some spells you might need. Please practice them before you start using them in battle._
  * _Two staves that hate our guts. They’re much more closely attuned to the user than wands, so be careful. Harry burns his hands whenever he uses one of the ones here, for example._
  * _Potions notes to pass on to Professor Snape._
  * _Alihotsy and withering vine. Mix them together as per the notes and you’ve got the base for a near-untraceable poison. DO NOT let anyone get a hold of the notes. Burn them if you must._
  * _The kissed corpse’s name is Alfred. Funnily enough, kissed bodies respond very well to the Imperius, to the extent that the spell doesn’t need to be maintained. We had too many zombie slaves, so we sent you Alfred. Don’t ask how we got them._
  * _Harry’s cloak. Luna is rambling about Ignotus Peverell and death whenever we bring it up… in any case, it can’t be summoned, or the enchantments removed. Do not let it fall into enemy hands. It is very powerful and has a sentimental value since it was James Potter’s before._



_Have a good time, plot well, and don’t let the Wrackspurts get to you – we hear the ministry attracts them quite badly._

_Love,_

_Luna, Harry, Neville, Ron, Ginny and Hermione”_

“Well,” Parvati said eventually, “That’s one way to do it.”

* * *

Bellatrix was in a markedly bad mood, but she had been in said mood for a number of days, and so it wasn’t exactly unexpected. The Dark Lord had not been in the least bit pleased that a full group of grown Death Eaters was unable to take down six teenagers, and even less so that the one person to get hit had made a full recovery, while his own troops varied between having severely bruised pride to having missing pieces to being entirely missing. Inevitably, he had taken it out on his followers, and these episodes usually left Bellatrix is a decidedly foul mood.

Snape, for his part, found this vaguely amusing, so long as the eldest Black sister didn’t disturb his work, because however much a moron you were in your teenage years, you had to have at least 50% of a sick sense of humour to join the Death Eaters, and so the potions master, though he covered it up well, found the concept of Bellatrix rampaging around having a temper tantrum and yelling at the grunts to be, at the very least, funny enough to make him laugh internally. He wasn’t dumb enough to laugh on the outside; for one thing, he’d probably give the newer recruits a heart attack, and for another, he didn’t need this particular potions base spilled onto the floor lest he want his shoes eaten, but at least he felt slightly less likely to drown himself in the lake when he left Malfoy Manor that morning.

That is, until he heard the knocking on his door. Getting to his feet, he walked over and opened it up, only to see Lycoris and Dennis standing outside holding a small bundle of paper and two large notebooks.

“What?” he asked sharply, eliciting, to his mild disappointment, little more than a reproachful look from Creevey and nothing at all from Lycoris.

“We were doing some research on that essay you set us,” Lycoris said blithely. “We wanted to ask a few questions?” He wiggled the bundle of paper in his hand.

Good grief, what were they up to now?

“Can’t it wait until after class?” Snape asked in a grumble, knowing full well they were just going to keep pestering him. Damn the wolf for instilling bad habits in them.

“We wanted to get it done when there was time, just in case we didn’t understand. Please, professor,” Dennis chirped.

Snape groaned internally and resisted the urge to close the door and bang his head against the table. “Very well,” he said through gritted teeth. “Ten minutes.”

Approximately twenty-five minutes later, he waved them out of the room. Collapsing in his chair, he eyed the lumpy package on his desk and wondered who the _hell_ Potter wanted him to poison.

* * *

“You don’t have to come over now, you know.”

“Mmhm.”

“There’s not much interesting showing up on the map, we don’t need two people watching it.”

“Mmm.”

“Dora, my feet are going numb.”

“Uh huh.”

“That – you’re meant to stand up and find another chair now.”

“Mm.”

“Thank you – Dora, please, adding more weight isn’t going to make it any better. And is that dynamite?”

“Yes, they left it behind.”

“Good grief. Why do you insist on using me as a chair, anyway?”

“Comfy.”

“No, I’m not. I’m bony, Dora, do you know what bony means?”

“Maybe I’m a masochist.”

“I… you know what, I’m going to take a nap. Yep. Thirty-something-year-old is going to take a nap.”

“You do that.”

“I will – that wasn’t an invitation to use me as a _pillow_!”

“Really?”

“…”

“That’s what I thought.”

* * *

Minerva McGonagall liked to think of herself as a stern, upright sort of witch, but there were times when even she would admit that any assumption of that sort was complete and utter dragon dung. Quidditch, for one thing, happened to be quite the source of pride for her, not that she’d admit to letting her hat fall off. And on the other hand, sometimes the actions of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as Harry Potter and Dumbledore themselves, made her wish she could take up chronic alcoholism without getting the stink eye from the officials.

This was one of those moments. The corridor was empty, it was a full hour past curfew, and there was heavy breathing coming from near the classrooms.

“Perhaps,” she grumbled as she walked past, “People ought to remember that while invisibility hides one’s body, it does not in any way hide _other_ things, like _sounds_.”

Ignoring the response of hurried scuffling, she continued on, back to her quarters. Now to figure out what had possessed the Order to give the children an invisibility cloak, and possibly drink her own weight in scotch.

* * *

“BLOODY MERLIN, THEY GOT PAST THE OWL NETS!” Mafalda Hopkirk shrieked, diving under her desk as Pigwidgeon and Hedwig happily rampaged their way through the Ministry. Percy, for his part, folded his arms on the desk and put his head on them, having long since given up on getting anything done where owls were concerned.

“CALL THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL CREATURES!” Fudge yelped, ducking a flying desk ornament.

“W-would it not be better to call the Aurors, sir?” Mafalda asked timidly. “The – er – the department drew a blank the last three times…”

“NO, NO, HEWINS! AURORS ARE FOR PEOPLE! CALL THE DEPARTMENT!”

“Yes, sir!” Mafalda squeaked, scurrying out of the room.

Ten minutes later, the walls were covered in scorch marks, Hedwig and Pigwidgeon were unharmed, two weeks’ worth of legislation had fallen into the fireplace, there was blue ink all over the ceiling, and both owls were hissing ominously.

“What’s that thing they’re carrying, and why has it started sparkling?” one of the tired Magical Ceature retrievers panted, pausing for breath. “I don’t like that.”

“WHY ARE YOU FOOLS STOPPING?” Umbridge shrieked.

“It’s no use,” another retriever sighed. “The charms aren’t on them, so even when we do hit them – which we mostly can’t – they just bounce off!”

“Hoot,” Hedwig said smugly.

“Hoot!” Pigwidgeon agreed. “Hoot, hoot, hoot, hoot, hoot, hoot, hoo—”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE WHY!” Umbridge shouted. “JUST GET IT FIXED!”

Genuinely scared for their lives (or scarred, perhaps. It could be hard to tell, where Dolores Umbridge was concerned), the Department workers picked up the pace again, chasing the owls around. This, as it turned out, was a mistake, because owls tend to move extraordinarily quickly and erratically when being chased, and this can be a problem when they’re trailing dynamite. The moment the spell hit Pigwidgeon’s package, there was a loud bang, and a smashing sound as two well-cushioned but nevertheless destructive owls once again shot through the enchanted windows.

“What the hell was _that_?!” the first retriever exclaimed. “I told you I didn’t like it.”

“You do realise,” the second said irritably, “That white owl still has one?”

Sitting on his desk covered in soot, Percy decided it was time he handed in his two weeks’ notice.


	15. In Which Multiple Children do Nasty Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Multiple children do nasty things, the prophecies are always right, fear is exceedingly pervasive, and Luna writes a letter to the minister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Yippee-ki-yay!

Parvati and Padma were humming a song in two-part harmony, and this was a decidedly bad thing. The whole school knew this, of course – or at least, the portion of the school that paid any sort of attention to the gossip cycle did – but then agai, they weren’t about to warn their oppressors of the danger that was quietly weaving daisy chains on the hill outside the forest, and so those who had to pass the twins did so calmly and quietly, at least on the outside.

And then there was Lavender Brown, who feared a man once, and decided it was bogus.

“Pav! Paddy! Whatcha doing?”

Padma, who was doing something painfully intricate with not just daisies, but leaves, grass, and sewing needles, said nothing. Parvati, for her part, beamed, and held up a long string of flowers. “Daisy chains! Wanna join in? We got new patterns!”

“Ooh, that’s a pretty one,” Lavender cooed, crouching and holding the end up to eye level. “Six strand weave, very nice.”

A traditional daisy chain, of course, had nothing to do with weaving and everything to do with bifurgcated stems, but then again, traditional daisies didn’t have ten-inch stems, nor did they self-replenish when picked. Never let it be said that Parvati Patil was brainless – she simply had a sense of priorities quite apart from the more studious teenager, that manifested in intricate butterflies, somehow finding hypoallergenic, decently priced foundation that came in colours other than paper, and flower patterns capable of holding half the average male’s body weight. In any case, there was a reason Cormac McLaggen twitched like a fluffy little bunny rabbit whenever either Patil walked by, and it involved the centre tower’s highest window.

“I got the pattern over there,” Parvati told her friend, as her fingers deftly twisted another three flowers into the chain. “There’s four, six and ten – do you think we could fishtail a daisy chain? Huh… anyway, if you want to help, we’re aiming for fifteen lots of twelve feet by teatime.”

“What about the ivy?” Lavender asked, and Padma glanced up briefly.

“Don’t worry about it, that’s mine. I wanted to try out a different pattern – knot theory and all, you know?”

Lavender did know, because it was the only thing all three girls mutually understood in full. Knowing exactly what was going on with your braids (and your damn bed hair) took a great deal of effort, after all – although she doubted that had been Padma’s initial motivation. Still, sibling bonding was always a good thing. “Oh, okay!” she smiled, and she plopped down next to them, started picking flowers, and was soon enough humming a third part to the twins’ melody.

Hogwarts feared for its life.

* * *

“Hermione,” Ron pleaded, “You’ve been in here for thirty-two hours.”

“I took a nap, Ronald,” Hermione muttered, even as her head slipped off her hand and nearly bashed into the table. “I’ve nearly got it.”

“You said that in the morning! It’s afternoon teatime! Please, Hermione, just come out and – and eat something! Go to the bathroom! I dunno!” Ron exclaimed. “I know you pretend you don’t need to do either of those things, but I grew up with Ginny! I _know_ Fred was lying when he said girls don’t need to go!”

Hermione huffed air through her nose. “Ronald, I’ve nearly completed this array of runes! I’ll come out after, I promise, okay?”

Ron sighed, and sank into a chair next to her. “If you’re not done in an hour, I swear I’m going to drag you out myself.”

Hermione glanced up for a moment, peeping over _Runes for Ruination_ before her eyes flicked back down to the pages. “You don’t have to sit here.”

“Yeah, I do. Besides, Luna and Neville are trying to breed murder carrots.”

“That sounds nice,” Hermione said vaguely, scribbling notes on the parchment next to her.

Ron frowned, and held out his hand a foot away from his own eyes, squinting at the bite marks along his fingers. “It’s… really not.”

* * *

“Harry, get the parchment and ink!” Ginny called out. “We’re getting a message!”

“Right,” Harry sighed. “Right, where – Hedwig, where’s the ink?”

Hedwig, who could not talk, hooted blandly and kicked a small ink bottle off the nearest shelf and straight onto Harry’s head, where it dripped through his hair.

“Wow. Thanks, Hed. Feeling the love, here.”

Pigwidgeon trilled a cheerful melody, and Hedwig made a curious ‘snek’ noise that might have been laughter, but also might just have been a sneeze. Or a singular hiccough. Owl noises could be difficult to identify, especially when the bird in question was chewing on a stray rat.

Harry grumbled. “Right. Ink, ink – here. Gin, coin?”

“Got it. Right, first message. Ah – _Dear Harry and co. Is it past our morals…_ ”

Harry scratched it down. “Copy. What else?”

“I’m waiting for the reply – here it is. _…to use barbed wire in conflict?_ ”

Harry stared at her. “What?”

“ _Dear Harry and co. Is it past our morals to use barbed wire in conflict?_ ”

“The hell?!”

“Copy that,” Ginny snorted, poking the coin.

“Wait – no – Ginny, I didn’t mean send it!”

“Too late,” Ginny told him smugly, and Harry wondered whether, as a fugitive of the law, it would be appropriate to dye his best friend’s sister’s hair green in her sleep. Probably, if he was honest, and he said so. Ginny just blew a raspberry at him.

* * *

“Oh my,” Dumbledore commented, and Mrs Weasley looked up from where she was sitting at the kitchen table, knitting a scarf.

“What is it? Did something happen?”

“Our – er – youth branch – appears to be considering using barbed wire as a weapon,” Dumbledore replied, turning over the coin on his palm.

“What’s barbed wire?” Mrs Weasley asked.

Dumbledore considered the question for a moment. “It’s a muggle invention. They – ah, a reply – oh dear.”

Dumbledore wasn’t doing anything to calm Mrs Weasley’s anxiety. In the slightest. “Albus? Oh, please tell me they aren’t doing anything foolish…”

“Well, no, it doesn’t seem so, although one of the children appears rather surprised… ah. Miss Granger appears to be giving them instructions.”

Mrs Weasley considered this for a moment, decided that was probably best for everyone, and went back to her scarf.

* * *

“Okay,” Ron said slowly, as Hermione finished spelling out the last of fifteen exceedingly nasty spells to apply to weapons of war. “But have you considered overlaying the shield thing and the horse thing instead of using the cup thing and the strength thing?”

Hermione looked up at him, ink on her nose, and blinked. “What would that do?”

“I dunno, I just think last time Dad said stuff about random chance and power, he glowed in the dark for a week and Mom had to hand a cookbook over to the Unspeakables because it was making the chickens grow extra legs.”

“Your chickens… what was he doing?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“I dunno. He bought a lump of metal off a shifty muggle and next thing I know stuff starts lighting up. Dad wouldn’t let us into the shed for the next month, and then Bode came by trying to replicate it with runes and nearly obliterated the gnome-holes. I remember Mum making Dad scrub those two runes off the shed wall.”

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then firmly marked down four runes on her parchment. “Ron,” she said slowly, “I think I nearly created a bomb.”

“Is that bad?”

“It depends,” Hermione informed him. “How mutated, exactly, were the chickens?”

“I dunno,” Ron admitted, “I was pretty small. But I’m pretty sure one of them got all lumpy – and another grew an extra head and started glowing like Dad.”

“What happened to them?”

“I’m pretty sure Bode took them. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that’s when Dad’s hair started falling out… what are you doing?”

Hermione had started scribbling furiously, ink splashing slightly as she noted down runes and numbers. “Just let me finish these notes, Ron, and then I’ll eat.”

“Uh. Okay, then.”

* * *

Neville sat up properly from where he had been bent over, planting a particularly stubborn carrot into the soil surrounding the castle’s keep. Apparently, being raised in the dungeons all their life made vegetables very much susceptible to curiosity surrounding bright things like the sun. For now, though, he had more pressing concerns. “Hey, Luna?”

“Yes, Neville?” Luna asked cheerfully, turning around with an armful of chirping plant cuttings.

“Did you feel a chill just then?”

Luna tilted her head and thought for a moment. “No. I felt… a warm feeling. Very nice and soft. Maybe it was a Pootling Pinwing. They feel different to different people, you know.”

“…what do they do, exactly?” Neville asked.

“Oh, they fly from shoulder to shoulder and tell us what they’ve seen. They get very excited sometimes. They used to like the Patils’ daisy chains, you know? They would come and talk to me all the time.”

“I see,” Neville said, and decided he was going to avoid Hermione for the next fourteen hours. There were only two people in the castle who could possibly make him feel like someone was dancing on his grave, and one was currently tickling the onions.

* * *

“Beware the flowers!” Trelawney shrieked. “Beware the flowers that snare and blind the unseeing!”

The ministry official pointed to her. “This is exactly what I mean! She’s been telling us to beware the flowers for _three days now_!”

“We can’t find another Divination teacher,” his counterpart grumbled. “And if we drop Divination we lose our rating with the ICW.”

“What about the horse?!” the official wailed.

“The – oh, the centaur? He’s being… difficult.”

“Mars is bright tonight,” Ronan noted.

“Mars has been bright for multiple years now,” Magorian agreed restlessly. “Our world may yet been thrown into disarray.”

“Ceres raises her head once more,” Bane said slowly. “This bodes poorly. We are not well armed tonight.”

“Wha’s See-reez?” one of the young foals asked, looking up through the canopy at the night sky above as he nibbled on a piece of fruit. “Izzit like Mars?”

“In part, my child,” Magorian told him. “Mars is bringer of battle. Ceres is bringer of life.”

Before the child could ask any more questions, though, there was the sound of hooves and a familiar face entered the clearing.

“You were told to leave and not return!” Bane roared, jumping to his feet.

“Peace, Bane.” Firenze held up his hands. “I bring news from the castle. I do not wish for our people to be… unduly harmed.”

“You should have thought about that _before_ you left the forest,” Magorian grumbled, pawing the ground and clenching his fists restlessly, but Ronan shook his head.

“Not in front of the children! Firenze, what makes you so bold to return? Speak wisely, our patience grows thin.”

“Ceres awakens and rises,” Firenze said simply.

“And?” Ronan asked sharply.

“She does so not for us. The foals of the castle grow closer to nature; even the witch has predicted it, though few believe it. The forest is safe, for now, but Ceres will smile upon those who call for her. Meanwhile, the humans grow away – I fear you shall be drawn into this conflict, soon.”

“We will tolerate no interference,” Magorian told him coldly.

Firenze surveyed them for a moment, before nodding. “Good.”

* * *

“How do I look?” Lavender asked cheerfully.

“Wonderful,” Ernie said briskly. “Function?”

“Perfect,” Padma told him calmly, the crown of flowers on her head mid-way through strangling an unfortunate frog via its long, trailing stems.

“They are rather vicious,” Susan noted, as the intricate chain in her own hands wrapped around a rat, interwoven needles splaying out to gain better purchase on the prisoner within.

“Very much so,” Dennis agreed, dangling seven feet above the ground. “Can – uh – can someone let me down, now?”

As Terry Boot started coaxing the daisy chain into letting the younger Creevey go, the door to the room slid open and a shuffling body wandered in, closely followed by the sudden appearance of two small children, directly in front and as if they had simply manifested out of the air.

“We may have pushed Pansy Parkinson into the Chamber,” Hettie informed them breathlessly. “Just maybe.”

The room stared at them for a moment.

“I’ll deny everything in court,” Lycoris told them bluntly. “It was Pemberton.”

“I thought his name was Alfred?”

“He didn’t have a surname. I gave him one.”

There was a brief, slightly awkward silence, and then Parvati grinned. “Well, I guess we haven’t tested out the organic thorns yet, have we?”

* * *

_Dear Minister,_

_It’s Pootling Pinwing breeding season, did you know? I do so love this time of the year, Pinwings are so sweet, when you tame them properly. I wish I could send you some columbine, it attracts them so very well, especially on colder days, strung up among the cherry trees. I particularly like purple – purple is the colour of royalty, you know, I suppose that’s why they flock so. I will miss them – do tell me if you find any, won’t you?_

_I do hope you’re keeping the Heliopaths locked away. It would be terrible if they were to harm the populace – they just aren’t ready for that much fire. I’ve always preferred the Wibbling Vorpents, because you can kick them very hard. I do that every day. Sometimes the Pinwings keep them away for me, too, which is just too kind of them._

_Grandpa’s Fried Phoenix shop is doing well, I hope? I haven’t had a letter in a while. He hasn’t been set on fire, has he? He was going to branch out to catching dark phoenixes too, but they can be rather tricky. I did wonder if he should be selling popsicles instead. I suppose completely obliterating all he catches is out of the question. Regeneration is a given – so freezing sounds perfect. Besides, popsicles shine so brightly in the light._

_Best Wishes,_

_Luna Lovegood_

Cornelius Fudge stared at the letter in front of him, and wordlessly handed it over to the Aurors to read. He didn’t know what it meant, but he had no wish to be infected with the crazies. His head was already spinning, and he didn’t need that right now, not when the damn owls were perched on the rafters glaring down at him with fireworks attached to their feet.

On the inside of the wax seal, the overlaid runes for power, the cup, and purging sat innocently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on Luna-Speak:  
> Pootling Pinwing: Carriers of the emotion and spirit of invention, often malicious or at the boundaries of acceptable knowledge. Can manifest as a shiver down your spine, or excitement, either intuitively or upon finding something out. Also can be used via metonymy to refer to invention in general.  
> Flower Language: Apart from the famous asphodel line, there's a myriad of things that can be said in the flower language. I've referenced columbine twice and cherry trees once - columbine can mean folly, but also resolution to win in purple specifically and anxiety in red specifically, while cherry can mean education, or deception and perfidy in white specifically. In Japanese tradition, they also mean gentleness or transience, while in China, they mean femininity.  
> Heliopaths: Reporters.  
> Wibbling Vorpents: Attackers.  
> Phoenixes: Order Recruits.
> 
> Hopefully, with these notes, you can figure out what the rest of Luna's letter means.
> 
> (And yes, the Department of Mysteries is entirely incompetent at nuclear science. No, Hermione isn't going to nuke the Ministry. It's all in Luna's third paragraph.)


End file.
